Blackfoot
by Marx Avian II
Summary: An American transfer student enrolls into U.A to change himself into someone he can be proud of. But the challenge ahead is not an easy one, even with his powerful quirk he will be put to the test to see if he truly can learn to become heroic. And with new villains rearing their heads, the task only seems all the harder. He will persevere though, one step at a time.
1. Prologue

**Blackfoot**

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**This story is based of Boku No Hero Academia. The author owns no rights to this series.**

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**This story includes violence, blood, controversial topics, and other material. Rating may be subject to change.**

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**This work is purely fictional. Any resemblance to characters living or dead is purely coincidental. They are only as real as you believe them to be.**

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**Enjoy**

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_..._

_Prologue_

"_-This was by no means a simple decision. The very core of American belief is being challenged today, yet, this is necessary. America must take the time to adapt, to heal itself from it's sickness- our survival depends on it. _

_Though, I fear, this sickness is far deeper than we can understand, and far more difficult to cure. That sickness is the human way of thinking- not these congentions._

_It is my hope, that in time, we as a people will be able to open ourselves to the world again. Improved. Safer. Without the fear of our neighbors, hanging over our head. Until that day, I hope that all of you do not forget what this country stood for and will continue to stand for." _

—_American president on closing of borders and isolation in the new world._

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The sunset, a picturesque pastel orange sprawled across the vast Japanese sky and dotted with beautifully varying hues of yellow, red, and the cottony streaks of white from lazily drifting clouds. The sunset, superimposed by the darkened horizon built by countless skyscrapers and glass structures was a sight visible to all who simply took the moment to gaze outward for once, instead of downward or forward.

The orange glow filtered through the glass frame of the long windows and into the empty classroom, bathing the wooden desks and hard tiles with the mid-spring warmth. It was a simple beauty, fleeting and inconsequential in a world where far grander sights lay just around the bend, but to the lonely inhabitant of the emptied classroom it was everything.

Wakatsuki Ishimaru, freshly divorced and infinitely curious by nature, kept his gaze glued to the window as a clock ticked away just above his head. Awash in the evening glow, the aged man's wrinkles, once prominent indicators of his waning youth, were nowhere to be seen; such was the virtue of the heavenly sight.

This sight was one of his favorite things. Despite the troubles of life, simply gazing out into that skyline at this time of day seemed to wash away his worries. Dimly, he wished he could share this view with his students, teach them to understand something that only he seemed to grasp.

But children didn't have time for that. Their eyes were ever pointed forward, chasing dreams and hopes with energy that he simply didn't possess anymore. As a teacher, the most he could do now was guide them, and he was perfectly fine with that. He was a cog in the background of something greater than himself, yet no less a part of it.

Ishimaru glanced away from the sight, regrettably, and his Kaleidoscope colored eyes landed on the clock. As per his own request, after he taught English lessons for the day he was one of the few teachers that handled the tasks that took place after the students had already gone home. Partly because of the wonderful view he experienced every day now, but also because he was genuinely fond of his job.

He loved to teach children, to impart some small impact on them that only a teacher possibly could. Better to spend time after school improving upon his work and bettering the lives of the younger generation than to spend it at home, alone.

His efforts were not constrained only to the school of course, but that was neither here nor there.

Currently he was awaiting a transfer student to arrive for an in-depth psyche examination. It was too late in the year to admit any students into Junior high for lessons, so instead the school would serve as a 'recommender' to allow the transfer student to apply for the next stage of schooling. Specifically, a certain school.

Yuuei high, colloquially known as U.A. A specialized school created for the sake of grooming the next generation of aspiring heroes. The overseas transfer applied directly for that school and since he had no meaningful record in Japan he would have to be evaluated.

Two knocks pounded, measured and fairly firm against the solid hickory of the only door to the class. That would be his guest, Ishimaru assumed. A little late, but not enough to annoy the teacher in any worthwhile way.

"Come in please"

Ishimaru kept his unusual eyes trained intently on the doorway as it slowly opened. A boy, a teenager far younger than himself, hesitantly stepped into the near vacant classroom- his footsteps loud against the silence. The teen took a couple steps in before swinging his head around to take in the classroom.

He measured him closely. The first noticeable thing was that he was tall, a good deal taller than most people normally were around here. A couple inches over six foot, was his guess. His clothing was also simple, jeans and a fur-lined canvas jacket and shirt over his pale skin.

For a moment, the teacher started in confusion. His clothing was a little warmer than the weather outside merited. Health issues? Though it could also just be chalked up to a fashion statement.

The boy's eyes landed on the teacher seated behind his desk, and Ishimaru got a good look at his face. A very average face, normal features with nothing out of place or overblown in any standard.

It was fairly handsome, friendly and inviting, but just average enough to not stand out at all. He also had a head of short natural black hair that barely reached his neck; unruly in the way that straight hair could get from only a cursory combing. Interestingly enough, from a glance the teacher noted that a couple tufts of hair along the back of his neck and the crown of his head seemed to curve upward, like fishhooks.

Ishimaru gestured toward the chair, and the teen immediately moved and took a seat, joining him in the sun. Kaleidoscope eyes met seafoam-green and a beat passed as the two stared.

The teacher moved first, his hand stretching out into a handshake that the teen hastily took, "Good evening, my name is Ishimaru Hyoudou. I'll be examining you today. I know you probably want to hurry and get this over with, so how about we start now?"

The teen spoke, stumbling over his first words before ironing them out into something stronger, "Ye- yes. Yes sir."

Ishimaru stared at him for a moment at the momentary lapse in speech. Shortly Ishimaru realized that the boy was put off by his strange eyes, as most people who first met him often were.

Reaching under his desk for a moment, Ishimaru revealed a small white rectangular box which he placed bottom-down on his desk after flipping a small switch on it's side. A bright red light glared from it's LED at him, causing the boy to grow even more unnerved.

"Don't worry. This conversation is going to be recorded for the sake of later review or in case it must be presented as evidence during court. Is that okay?"

Staring at the box for a moment longer the boy turned his attention back to the teacher and nodded resolutely.

"Good" Ishimaru leaned forward and laced his fingers, "Then let us begin."

"This is the preliminary examination for transfer to this school district and, subsequently, approval for the Yuuei hero course entrance exam. Please state your name, age, and country of birth."

The teen cleared his throat, his voice strong despite how uncomfortable he seemed, "My name is Ritch- ...ah. My name is Richard Hugh Blackmore. I'm fourteen years old, and I'm a transfer student from America."

"Alright then Richard,-"

"Oh, uh, please call me Ritchie. Richard doesn't really fit me."

"Hmm… alright, Ritchie, tell me about yourself."

"Right. I lived in Alaska, out in a cabin and I spent most of my time helping my father with his dogs or working around town or some chores."

Laced fingers, a more relaxed posture to put the young man at ease, "How about schooling? What kind of school did you go to?"

Ritchie Blackmore hurriedly shook his head, "Not much. I was homeschooled by my dad and some of his teacher friends mostly."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Now there was a fond smile, Ishimaru smiled in return, "Yes."

Ishimaru jotted a few notes down on a fresh sheet of paper beneath his hand before glancing back to the boy. "Anything else? How about special skills?"

"Sk-skills? Oh, uh, I know how to ride a horse and hunt…"

Ishimaru continued to stare at him making it clear that he was waiting for more.

"I...I can cook…?"

He was floundering now. Time to pull back and ask some easier questions.

Ishimaru peppered him with a couple easier queries. The boy opened up again, easily answering to his relations with his family, the animals he took care of, and his opinion on Japan so far.

Then…

"Tell me, Ritchie, do you do the things that other people want you to do, or would you rather do the things you believe are 'right'?"

"I'd do what other people tell me to, I guess."

Ritchie quickly faltered at the frowning expression on the proctors face. Ishimaru continued the questioning, his answers not quite so gentle anymore.

What is the lowest grade you would be okay with? His answer: a C

Do you consider yourself better than your peers to some extent? His answer: a resounding no.

You are a doctor, a patient comes in heavily wounded and in a critical state, the doctor is busy elsewhere, what do you do? Anesthetize and wait for the doctor.

Ishimaru rubbed at his forehead during a lull in the examination, his eyes firmly locked into the sheath of paper with his notes. The results were… not good.

The boy was nice enough, polite and thoughtful with most questions. But his answers didn't paint a pretty picture.

Ritchie Blackmore had a crippling lack of self confidence and self esteem. Every answer was accompanied by hesitation, a moment where he was left uncertain. The answers themselves easily proved that he did not put much stock in himself, and was readily able to admit that other people were more capable than him. Humility wasn't a bad trait, not at all, many kids could use a lesson or two in that regard, but it wasn't the trait of an aspiring hero.

Ritchie was, all in all, a very mundane teen. Not only was his personality surprisingly self-deprecative, but there was nothing outwardly impressive about him at all. He had an athletic build, but only in such a way that made it obvious he did the bare minimum amount of exercise to maintain a natural figure. He wasn't strong and based on his grades on the earlier test he wasn't particularly intelligent either.

He was near incompetent.

Though, that's not to say he didn't have any redeeming factors. The sheet of paper at Ishimaru's side briefly detailed his birth-given quirk, and it was impressive enough.

But…

Ishimaru sighed tiredly. The American simply wasn't cut out to be a hero- to even attempt to try to be one. He had the quirk, but in almost every other way he failed to meet the requirements that all heroes must achieve.

He wasn't stupid, but he wasn't smart enough. He wasn't weak or frail, but he wasn't strong enough. Simply put, he wasn't impressive enough.

It was a sad thought, and Ishimaru hated that he had to think it. Children shouldn't be judged like that.

He wasn't looking forward to what he was going to have to do. Turning away kids from their dreams was difficult enough, even harder when that same kid traveled across the world to chase that dream. He pushed that thought aside for the moment. Only one more question left on the sheet.

"Okay, Ritchie… this is the last question."

"Why do you want to be a hero?"

Silence for the moment. The American furrowed his brow as he thought. He worried at his lip, his eyes firmly locked on the desk instead of the teachers eyes.

The near-silent whirring of the tape recorders inner mechanics and the marching of the clock dominated the room. Soft taps accompanied the noise from the teacher gently drumming his finger on his pen.

There was a pinched moment where Ishimaru worried the teen simply wouldn't answer, but Blackmore soon spoke, his head rising and eyes meeting his own.

"I want to change myself."

The teacher paused, his fingers stilling against his pen as he glanced at the boy questioningly.

"I… I'm not proud of who I am now. I'm not good at anything, I can't do anything right and everybody knows that… I know that too."

"But," Ritchie glanced out the window toward the suspended sun, "Well, awhile ago I saw a video of Japanese heroes and the work they do… and I was amazed. Fighting with people much stronger than themselves… risking their lives to save other peoples… they aren't useless. they can do anything! They're everything I'm not!"

"Being strong, being confident, giving other people hope… that's what being a hero is all about."

"I want to become a hero because I think it's the only way I can change myself."

…

He was stunned. For just a moment, all the hesitation and doubt was washed away. There was still the lack of self confidence, but now it was directed towards something that made sense. It wasn't that his faltering self-esteem stunted him, it was the exact purpose he was here.

Ritchie Blackmore wanted to change who he was, and to Ishimaru that invalidated all the other answers he had given. So what if he wasn't impressive in any way, he wanted to change. That meant something! Desire for improvement is worth more than a perfect man, it is the potential for perfection.

Kids shouldn't be judged for who they are now, but rather for their potential to become better. For a moment, Ishimaru had forgotten that.

"Right. Well, that's it then." He was all business as he switched off the recorder, laid it flat on the desk, and moved to organize his notes.

"T-that's it?"

Ishimaru chuckled at the bewildered young man. "That's right. Just a quick evaluation, thirty questions. You're done."

Ritchie shuffled in his chair, distinctly uncomfortable. "Did I…"

"Pass?" He flinched and Ishimaru softened his eyes, "Yes. I'll write you up a full record tonight and the school will handle signing you up for the entrance exam this winter." with all the papers arranged, he turned back to the shocked American, "You passed."

The small content smile Ritchie gave was more than enough for the teacher. It was relieved, and very much grateful.

"Of course, this was just an entrance exam is the real test, and it's up to you to pass that."

"Right! I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." To tell the truth, Ishimaru was taking a chance here. If Ritchie really didn't have what it took to be a hero and if he got badly injured in the entrance exam, then questions would be asked. It would lead back here and officials would question how he could let such an obviously inept boy attempt one of the most difficult tests on this side of the Atlantic.

It was too late to turn back on his word now, though. He would just have to have a little faith.

"Go on, son. Enjoy the rest of your day, I'll handle it from here and get in touch with your parents."

Ritchie quickly moved from his seat with a nod, and moved to the door before stumbling awkwardly.

"Oh um…" Ritchie faced the teacher with some apprehension, stumbling over his words for a moment before snapping into a _deep _bow, shocking the older man. "Thank you, sir!"

"Ah… you're most welcome?"

Ritchie snapped back up like a particulary tight rubber band and robotically marched toward the door, his ears burning red.

Just as he swung the door open, Ishimaru called out to the boy and stopped him one last time.

"Yes?

"Good luck, Ritchie."

The boy smiled at him and gave a sharp, mildly confident nod. With that the door shut behind him with a final, silent_, click._


	2. Chapter 1: Of Men and Machines

_Chapter I_

_Gradient_

Ritchie ran his hands through his hair, further ruining his black locks while knocking free the flecks of snow clinging to the strands. Dropping his arm to his side, he glanced up in awe at the massive building spanning in front of him. Yuuei, the proud holder of the top hero school, stood in front of him. The structure was made up of pristine glass that seemed to stretch on forever in either direction. Surrounding the foundation were beautiful poplar and cherry trees, freshly maintained grass, and to Ritchie, almost overbearingly well laid walkways.

Even though Ritchie wasn't very knowledgeable in heroics or Japanese culture in general, not even he could hide his sheer amazement at the school. Just behind him were city skyscrapers and bustlings streets, but he felt as though he had stepped into another world entirely. He couldn't help but shiver with anticipation at the sight.

The sun was high in the sky this morning, making the buildings appear all the more magnificent. A slight winter chill and wind pervaded the air, causing the American's breath to come out in steamy huffs even though he wasn't even remotely bothered by it.

Ritchie had worn a simple pair of flannel-lined jeans alongside a blue canvas parka. Fur peeked up over his collar from the jackets lining, and the snow boots slapped on his feet had seen better days. It was suitable clothing for such a cold winter day.

Ritchie Blackmore felt hot.

["This was a bad idea…"]

He stared at his feet. His plan to attend this school had been in the works for almost a year now, but now that he was here… That drive seemed to just evaporate. This was a challenge, probably one of the hardest tests in the entire world, and certainly the hardest he had ever faced. Ritchie hadn't been in this country for very long, but even he knew that only the best of the best made it through this gauntlet.

Despite the light training he put himself through he still wasn't certain how to use his quirk to its fullest; in fact, it was downright useless in many situations. And he was even less confident in his physical strength which had seen no progress in the very short few months he had free.

In the beginning, he believed he was ready to do whatever it took to make this chance work. But now it was slowly dawning on him how the short time frame handicapped him. And how little his commitment really meant.

["Woah!"]

A wave of rushing students blindsided him, Ritchie quickly moved out of the way as he was shoved by the examinees eagerly moving up into the school, nearly being bowled over by a particularly large multi-armed boy. More people began to arrive, students chatting loudly as they all admired the school- pumping each other up for the exam. Once he was well out of their way, the American stared at them before his dull green eyes dropped in self-contempt.

It was very likely that, of all the students he could see, he was the weakest of them all.

He immediately dropped that thought. Ready or not, he was here. Maybe he wasn't good enough, maybe he was. But he wasn't nearly cowardly enough to turn tail and run now. He was already here, and just the sight of the impressive school was enough to breathe a little life back into his expression. This would be his first step toward changing himself, he would make sure of that.

Ritchie joined the flood of people, walking at the edge of the loud students while staring at them in interest. None of them noticed him which wasn't all to surprising, the American didn't quite stand out. That was fine with him though, he was more interested in examining them and their quirks.

Four arms, green skin, ridiculously spiky hair… Ritchie was well aware of how quirks could change a person's appearance, and he wasn't one to judge others in any way, but he found himself stunned into staring either way. Back home, appearance changing quirks were not nearly as common- here, in Japan, it seemed that everyone had some observable quirk.

[...Phenotypes… I think…"]

It was just something he was going to have to get used to, he would be living here after all, (_If he passed)_. Seeing people walking around looking like they could snap him like a twig was a small price to pay for this chance. He wasn't afraid. Really.

Ritchie quickly realized he was just distracting himself from the inevitable when he found himself staring at the school once again. It was… much more intimidating this close. Ah… he was tapping his heel on the ground. He didn't want to run away, but his more base and cowardly instincts were screaming at him to give up- and he hasn't even started the exam yet!

"Did you see it?"

Ritchie swallowed a scream. His heart slammed against his ribcage so hard he could swear he heard the bone crack and he nearly activated his quirk from sheer terror. A combination of his own building paranoia and the menacingly monotone voice from behind him flawlessly succeeded in shattering the confidence he had built up over the past year.

Small, rough steps accompanied a head of purple hair coming into his periphery, and Ritchie was floored. It was another student, a boy, likely around his own age. He was short, barely coming up to his waist, and had a goofy hairstyle akin to gluing purple rubber balls onto a head. But most shocking of all was the extremely serious expression that the boy was regarding him with, bloodshot eyes and all.

"...I'm... sorry_?" _Ritchie wasn't sure if he was asking for clarification or apologizing for his impudence. But he made damn sure he spoke in Japanese. Scared or not, he spent a stack of months struggling to speak and understand it.

"Did. You. See. It?" With every word the much shorter boy's intensity seemed to grow.

"S-see what?"

The purple-haired boy pointed with ferocity, and Ritchie followed it to see absolutely nothing. Nothing, except for a bunch of students milling about. The school? That wickedly overblown door? That gaudy pink-sparkle backpack?

"That girl over there! The wind! It made her skirt fly up! Did you see it?"

…

Ritchie Blackmore didn't even know how to begin to answer. One moment, he was terrified he was about to be singled out before he had even stepped into the school, and now he was so ruthlessly lost that he couldn't even decide if he wanted to be offended, embarrassed, or annoyed.

Apparently the younger boy took his open-mouthed silence as a 'no' and sighed. The serious expression evaporated and the student just looked devastated. "I almost saw it, but the damn angle was all wrong! A once in a lifetime opportunity, gone!" Before Ritchie could properly express his disgust, the boy moved on.

"Anyway! You're here for the entrance exam right? The name's Minoru Mineta, nice to meet ya. And sorry about spooking you like that."

"Er…" The taller boy took his outstretched hand, "Ritchie Blackmore. Nice to meet you too." While the other boy was beyond strange, he was pretty much the first person his age he had spoken to since coming here. He wasn't in a rush to get on his bad side so soon.

"Huh. That's a weird name. You a foreigner?"

Ritchie hummed in acknowledgment, slowly growing more comfortable now that his mind was off the school. "Yes. I'm from America. I came over a little while ago." The boy was strange, but he saw no harm in being honest with him.

"America?!" Mineta, completely heedless of personal space, seized Ritchie by the lapels of his parka and began vigorously shaking him with more force than his tiny body belied. "You moved here from America?! As in: the United States?!"

"Y-ye-ss?"

"Don't you know what America is famous for?!" Mineta released him and threw his hands skyward, "Big breasts! Long legs! Flawless skin! Western beauty is the holy grail for a pervert like me! And you left that?!"

He was stunned. A part of himself was blown away at how easily Mineta claimed he was a pervert. Another part was becoming acutely aware of the attention they were getting. This was not how he saw this day going, not at all. He really did not want rumors to go around about both of them being perverts.

"Yes. Can you please calm down?!"

"How can I calm down?! You lucky dog! Visiting America and sightseeing on those beaches has been a dream of mine since I could walk! But…!"

People were openly glaring at them with such intensity now that even Mineta couldn't keep his energy going and quickly deflated.

"Well… Whatever. We're in the same boat now either way. Welcome to Japan, pal." Ritchie took the playful nudge in his arm with a weary expression. He was fairly certain that he was now lumped in with Mineta as a pervert duo, like some trashy anime trope. Some welcome…

"So, Blackmore-san, what are you doing just standing around out here anyway? You're here for the exam too, right? Its gonna start soon you know."

"I am. I just… kinda got a little anxious. I'm not used to school or anything like that, so I guess I got cold feet."

Mineta chuckled at that, shooting him a surprisingly pleasant and friendly grin, "Boy do I understand that. I've heard a lot about how dangerous the Yuuei exam is. I was about ready to give up when I read up on some of the rumors."

"Then we really are in the same boat, I…" Wait. "...Dangerous?"

"Uh-huh!" Mineta whipped his head around a few times before whispering conspiratorially, "Just between you and me, I heard that it's so dangerous that somebody _died _once."

His blood went cold and he squeaked, "D-died?! Wha- is it really that dangerous?" This was a school! He didn't sign up for a life or death situation!

"Well, I don't know. It was just a rumor. Plus they change the exam every year, so there's a good chance we might not even get something scary like fighting fake villains. I think a couple years ago the students rescued fake civilians, so maybe something like that?"

Ritchie cringed. Ironically, that kind of exam was way worse for him than one that could potentially kill him. He really hoped Mineta was wrong. Otherwise, it was his neck on the line in more ways than one.

"Either way, it's gonna be tough. Hey! If we see each other in there, let's give each other a hand! Maybe we'll have a better chance of passing like that."

"Well, I don't know if we'll meet in there but…" Ritchie Blackmore stood no chance against his eager acquaintance. Besides, he needed all the help he could get- having someone to rely on if he got in a bind was a good deal. "Alright. I'll be counting on you, then." Ritchie stuck his hand out and Mineta took it, smiling broadly.

"Alright! I'm fired up now! Let's get in there! We'll pass this no sweat." Mineta cheered and began to stomp toward the school, Ritchie trailing behind with a small smile.

Things were starting to look up. The challenge had yet to begun, but now Ritchie had a friend in Mineta and a better idea of what was to come. Even better, his friends optimism (as poorly placed as it was) was infectious. Maybe he really could make this work, or at least, he would find a way to try his hardest.

In surprise, Ritchie realized that his heels were no longer trembling and he wasn't sweating anymore.

'_Huh…'_

"Wait a moment. Mineta-san…" Mineta didn't stop but did look up at the American with his questioning, blank eyed face.

"Why were you still out here anyway? The exam is going to start soon, like you said."

Mineta blinked in acknowledgement before scowling, "Oh! That's because I saw some lucky bastard get touched by a girl with zero-gravity quirk. Right in broad daylight! I was so pissed that I couldn't move and everyone just passed by me!"

*Sigh…* Of course.

* * *

"Ah… Um… What is this?"

"A waiver."

Ritchie's fingers were slick with disbelieving sweat, and his heel was tapping up a storm as he stared at the paper in his hand. He really didn't need to ask, since the word _WAIVER_ was written quite boldy along the top of the paper. But he just wanted to be sure that he wasn't hallucinating it like some messed up fever dream.

"Am- am I going to die?" So maybe he was being a little melodramatic, but Yuuei was seriously starting to scare him.

The teacher throatily chuckled at his weak tone, smiling at him with his wide toothy mouth. Ritchie stared at the pitch-black skinned older man in a tan trench coat, trying to place the man. He had seen him once before, on a couple leaked videos of heroes fighting villains, he was fairly certain he had heard of this strange man.

Ah, now he remembered. Ectoplasm, the clone-making hero in all black. Ritchie recalled the specifics of the man's quirk and the fact that he was a paraplegic- the hero having lost his legs in the line of duty. It was a sobering reminder of just what he was signing up for, and to not get too comfortable.

"Don't worry, kid. It's a waiver, not a bear trap." Ectoplasm hovered closer and gestured vaguely toward the paper, "It's more of a formality that the hero-society has the school do. You will not be in any danger, there are plenty of heroes here to keep you safe during your test."

Ritchie Blackmore allowed himself to calm down. Mineta seemed confident otherwise, but then again he was only going off of a rumor he had heard. In the end, he probably should have guessed as much. There was no way that a kid being killed in a school exam would go over well in any country, waiver or no.

"Plus this isn't even a proper waiver. Should you be hurt, the school will still take full responsibility for your injuries. This is just to make sure you understand what you're getting into." Ectoplasm stared at the boy, even as he struggled to make eye contact, "Meaning, that you can back out at any time. None of us here want you kids getting hurt for no reason."

Huh… That actually made a lot of sense. Being a hero was about taking responsibility for your actions and, in some aspect, the actions of others after all. The respect he had for Yuuei only grew.

Ritchie nodded and placed the paper on the nearest flat surface, sloppily writing out his name in Kanji where indicated. Behind him, Ectoplasm nodded and spoke while moving away, "When you finish that, move toward the second auditorium. The written exam will begin in a few minutes. Don't be late, please."

"Right here you… go?" Ritchie frowned as Ectoplasm disappeared into a sliding door, completely disregarding him. He stood like a bump on a log. Who was he supposed to give this to?

"Thank you."

"Ah!" Ritchie jumped as out of nowhere black fingers took the paper from his hand. Next to him, was Ectoplasm, briefly glancing over his paper before nodding in satisfaction and walking away- in the opposite direction. Ritchie stood dumbfounded in the emptying entrance room.

"Okay then..."

With that taken care of, Ritchie made for the auditorium with the kanji he was fairly certain meant '2'. To be completely honest, he had forgotten about the written portion of the exam. Mostly due in part to his anxiety over the practical exam. But, while he hadn't gotten the chance to exercise and improve himself physically he had studied like he had never studied before. He may not be impressive in most conventional ways, but he knew he could handle himself on a written test.

* * *

Ritchie cupped his face in his hands in dejection. Sighs of relief echoed through the massive room as all the other students relaxed and stretched after the test. Ritchie Blackmore didn't listen to it, he just sulked into his area of the table with a forlorn expression.

The test was _hard_. In hindsight, the fact that he had never actually taken a school test before should have clued him into that. But he wasn't expecting it to be _this _bad. High level math, practical thinking, a language section, all in 60 questions that felt like 600. Couple that with his rudimentary understanding of the Japanese language, and you had a test straight from hell.

In the end, the studying may have paid off regardless. Because, although he felt as if the soul had been sucked from him, he was still fairly certain that he had managed to pass. Now, if he got a high score worthy of a hero? That was a question that fell on deaf ears.

Ritchie sighed and massaged his brow as glanced around the room. Every student had been crammed into the massive room, each person seated at one of the long rows of tables. He was sat in the top row, between some kid with sharp teeth and silver hair and another stout blonde haired boy.

As soon as the last of the papers were taken up by Ectoplasm they were greeted with the hero Present Mic taking the stage with his natural swagger. Once he was at the center of the stage at the bottom of the room, he yelled, "**WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO MY LIVE SUPER SHOW! EVERYBODY SAY HEEEEYOO!"**

Ritchie grimaced and plugged an ear with a pinky, his mood too low to actually respond back. Apparently everyone else agreed because the passionate call was met with deathly, awkward, silence.

"**OH YEAH! I'M GETTING SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE, TOO, LISTENERS! ALL RIGHT THEN, KIDDOS," **he continued, valiantly undeterred, "**I'M GONNA GIVE YOU THE 'DEETS' ON HOW THE PRACTICAL EXAM IS GONNA GO DOWN! ARE YOU READY?!"** the explosive-voice hero took a deep whistling breath, and yelled, "**YEEEAHH!"**

Silence.

Present mic proceeded into the detailed explanation on the exam, a large projector screen sliding down behind him with photos of the exam site: a mock city, crafted with accuracy down to the furnishing of the buildings and the streets. Statistics slid along the side of the screen, detailing the size of the city itself, the area limits, and possible hazards. All students would be separated into two different groups and sent to separate grounds to take their exam.

The test itself was a matter of accumulating the most points of your group. Fake villains would be scattered around the city, all of which had varying point values and strengths- the point value rising respectively to its difficulty to defeat. The villains themselves were machines, constructs of brittle steel that were easy to destroy but still put up a fight.

Ritchie slapped his hands on his desk and leaned forward with his eyes wide with disbelief, causing the students on either side of him to jump and shoot him an annoyed glare. Machines! He couldn't even hope to describe the rush of relief that shot through him. Robots were perfect! He couldn't accidentally hurt a machine too much, he couldn't accidentally kill it with his power, he didn't have to hold back. In fact, the entire purpose of this exam was simply to destroy as many machines as physically possible!

It was the perfect challenge for his quirk- anything else would have doomed him. Ritchie was giddy with joy. With this he could actually do it. He could pass the exam, maybe even do so well that he made up for his poor showing on the written exam. Even if he had never really used his quirk offensively, he knew what it was capable of and destroying machines was, regrettably, well within his power.

Even better, Present Mic made it clear that his fellow competitors were forbidden from attacking each other. No contesting with others, just a good old fashioned hunt.

While Ritchie slouched into his chair with relief, a rather tall young man with prim blue hair man interrupted the voice hero with a rather loud question that caught the American's attention. He held up the pamphlet they had all been given earlier and asked why Present Mic had only mentioned three types of villains, the one, two, and three pointers, when the pamphlet clearly stated that there were four.

"There were?" Ritchie muttered before quickly flipping up his own untouched pamphlet and scouring the villain page. "I'll be damned…"

Another villain type? Was it different than the other ones? His mood quickly began to drop as he began to think of worst case scenarios.

"AND YOU!" The American flinched and dropped his pamphlet over the edge of his table. The blue haired boy wasn't done talking just yet, and had his hand pointed toward the throng of students with an authoritarian glare on his bespectacled face. "Can't you sit still for a moment, you're distracting!"

For a second Ritchie thought he was singling him out, but he quickly noticed another student with green hair shrink into their seat with a mumbled "sorry". A couple students around the room chuckled at that, Ritchie gave a short laugh too, even if he wasn't sure why. He didn't know what the other kid was doing, but he knew it couldn't have been pleasant to be called out like that in such a full room. He was only glad it wasn't him.

Before anyone could cause a greater scene, Present Mic's loud voice reigned the attention back in, "**ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! THANK YOU FOR THE SEGUE, EXAMINEE, MUCH APPRECIATED! THAT'S RIGHT, THERE IS FOURTH TYPE OF VILLAIN OUT THERE THAT'S WORTH ZERO POINTS!" **Mic crossed his arms in front of him in the form of a big X, "**YOU CAN THINK OF THEM AS TRAPS! ANNOYING THINGS ONLY THERE TO GET IN YOUR WAY! THEY'RE THE 'GIMMICK' OF THIS TEST THAT'LL RAMPAGE WHEN CROWDED! SO WATCH OUT!"**

Satisfied, glasses-kid sat down while apologizing for the interruption.

A gimmick, huh? Ritchie wasn't sure how to feel about that. With his quirk he knew that he could avoid any dangerous trap that would come, but the secrecy still made him worried. He needed to be extra vigilant, that zero pointer was something he would need to keep an eye on.

"**ALRIGHT THEN! THAT'S ENOUGH TALKING! LET'S MOVE ONTO THE MAIN EVENT! PLUS ULTRA!" **No one answered to his cheer, but there were many resolute nods and confident expressions all around. ""**MAY YOU GLADLY SUFFER THE TRIALS TO COME, AND BECOME BETTER FOR THEM!"**

That resonated with the American. Whatever happened out there, win or lose, he wouldn't forget it. So he had to put his best effort in, no matter what. Even if he failed in the end, at least he could be proud that he really did try.

Leaving the auditorium and bidding a short goodbye to his seatmates, Ritchie moved toward the large group he had been assigned to: Group 2, or 'the blockbusters' as he was fairly certain he heard Present Mic stage whisper. A short couple hallways of doors passed by before they made it to the outer skirt of the testing grounds, the massive fake city catching the awed whispers of the group.

The students spread out, everyone moving to do their own thing or speak to whoever they were familiar with. From what he could tell, everyone had changed into looser and thinner clothing better suited to exercise. Track suits, school gym gear, full combat suit...

Ritchie himself had only taken off his parka, revealing the plaid button up beneath, mostly due to the fact that he didn't know he needed another pair of clothes and had failed to bring more of his own. In the end, it didn't really matter, his clothes were loose, easy to move in, and maybe durable enough to keep him a little safer during the exam.

Hanging a hand over his eyes, Ritchie Blackmore scanned the faces of the crowd in search of his fairly new acquaintance, Minoru Mineta. But no matter how he searched, the head of purple hair was nowhere to be seen- and he was fairly certain that with the spats some of the female students were wearing he wouldn't exactly be keeping a low profile. It seemed that they had been separated into different groups in the end. It was a shame, but Ritchie would just have to deal with being alone.

Either way, 'the blockbusters' were a pretty diverse group. Tons of wimpy looking guys, along with twice as many well-built and dangerous looking ones. The violent looking blonde in particular was giving off a clear 'fuck off' vibe that Ritchie gladly avoided. A man with rockets for hands, another guy with a bird head that seemed quite standoffish, and a bubbly pink skinned girl who was doing a couple stretches while chatting up another group of just as strange people.

It was a bit overwhelming. It was bad enough that there were so many people, much more than he was used to back home. But being the only foreigner in sight, Ritchie felt more than a little isolated. Could they tell? Were they already sizing him up as the weakest of them all?

Ritchie slapped his hands together before moving into some leg stretches. He needed to get his mind off that, all that mattered was the exam. He just had to remember why he was here, that was all that mattered.

Just as he began to check his knees he heard the unmistakable voice of Present Mic boom over the students, "**AAAAND START!" **Ritchie shot his head up at the call, his brow tense in confusion at the abrupt yell. Most everyone else was looking around and mumbling in confusion as well, except for the blond haired boy who immediately bolted into the city. "**WHAT'S THE MATTER?! THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A COUNTDOWN IN A REAL DEAL BATTLE! RUN! RUUUUN! THE BATON HAS BEEN TOSSED, CATCH IT!"**, with that the group immediately burst into action, everyone breaking into a mad dash to be the first to crush some robots.

Ritchie still didn't react fast enough though, many students bumped into him and shoved him out of the way as they took off, leaving him in their dust. He danced out of the way, his teeth grit in annoyance as everyone cleared out leaving him the only one remaining there.

"What a cheap trick…" Ritchie groaned shaking his head, but quickly focused up and stared at the city, taking a moment to hype himself up again. This was it.

"Alright…" he pounded his fist into his hand and cracked his neck, "Lets go."

* * *

Dual-pointer #1672, or better known by it's common grouping tag: Bipedal Stan-15x, rumbled down the empty street of asphalt and concrete. Its red optic swiveled as it examined the buildings surrounding it, the high tech receptors carefully watching out for any signs of movement among the city.

There were plenty of loud noises around that it intercepted, but the operating system within it ignored those as it continued to stomp with its two-toed ostrich feet, the rubber filled cannons on its armless shoulders swiveling in time with its coded targeting system. Stan was designed solely for reacting to things appearing within its cone of sight, and that was all it focused on.

Suddenly, pop-ups rocketed into it's optic, thin squares appearing as the zoom-in feature activated and focused in on a lone figure far down the street. Immediately Stan recognized the figure as one of it's targets.

A male, averagely-figured and running in its direction. More statistics ran down its sensor array as it continued to examine the male boy, the facial features matching with that of examinee #1313. All of this took only milliseconds to occur.

Bipedal Stan-15x relaxed the servos in its knees and lowered itself down while also priming its shoulder cannons. It was ultimately designed for the sole purpose of incapacitating the examinee, and so it prepared itself for its primary goal.

A countdown flashed into its inner optic, quickly ticking away in incremental measurements of varying degrees as the boy neared. Within mere milliseconds they would be within range of the rubber cannons, it was only a matter of time.

3.5 seconds and 14 milliseconds...

2 seconds exactly...

1 second and 15 intervals…

Then, something happened. One moment, examinee #1313 was just about to enter the designated effective range of the cannons, but in the next they were gone. Stan's optics stuttered, the intense operating system completely unable to make sense of the loss of a variable. A glitch? Queries began to fill the screen as it tried to account for the sudden anomaly.

Something crashed hard into its side, rendering its balance useless. The optic flared to life with alerts and warnings, the mechanical beast desperately attempted to rectify the sudden change in gravity, but failed. Something grabbed onto the grooves of its chassis and pulled it even further off balance, so much so that it began to tip over fast.

Then its optic shattered. Cracks exploded across the screen, completely warping it and the internal structure as it barely registered the fact that it had finally struck the ground. Beneath the wicked cracks, the optic spat out error after critical error. Critical damage to chassis… Extremely heavy impact… missing leg unit… compromised internal circuit boards…

Errors continued to fill out the screen until the red glow of its optic slowly faded away, replaced with a glassy black.

The machine gave one last sparking sputter before it collapsed into the ground in a heap.

Ritchie sighed as he dusted off his hands, admiring his work. The two-pointer he found was now in a heap of scrap among other similarly trashed machines. Robot after robot had been stacked here, all in horrible shape and beyond repair- their steely shells split open like walnuts, revealing the delicate wiring beneath. Two-pointers, three-pointers, all of them tossed overtop of each other like trash in a scrapyard. There were so many mechanical wrecks that they stacked up into the shape of a pyramid almost double the American's height.

He stepped back and cupped his chin even as the sound of battle echoed across the city. Even though he had destroyed quite a number of machines, he still hasn't started breathing heavily. Would this much be enough? It was a fairly large amount done in a short span of time, but he didn't know exactly what score he needed to ensure a passing grade.

"A couple more couldn't hurt, I guess." Better safe than sorry, his father always said.

Nodding to himself, Ritchie returned deeper to the city, keeping an eye out for the other students to make sure he didn't get in their way. He didn't dare go after any of the machines already engaged by other people, instead he just continued to sweep the city for ones he could single out.

As he stopped at the corner of a tall building, Ritchie sweeped the streets in search before stepping back in shock. Another examinee quickly rushed past him from the corner, nearly bowling him over with a cry of "Sorry!"

Ritchie frowned at the blur as they continued to sprint away, a little surprised at the sudden appearance. Before he could actually think too hard on it, the sound of shattering glass violently yanked him from his thoughts.

Ritchie spun around as quickly as he could, his eyes wide as the glass window of the building behind him exploded outward. From within, a large bipedal machine with glowing red eyes leaped out, one of its stocky arms rocketing toward him in slow motion. Ritchie barely had time to throw his arms up in some semblance of a block before he was struck hard and sent flying down the street.

The machine landed firmly as Ritchie Blackmore rolled away with a cry of shock and pain. Its center of gravity lowered as it primed itself for another leap, the white '3' painted just above its red optics seeming to glare at the student as he frantically pulled himself up and crawled away on his back. Building up tension for only a moment, the three pointer lunged at the boy with its arm reeled back once again, only for him to barely roll out of the way as it tore a gouge into the asphalt.

Ritchie lashed out with his foot, catching the machine in what constituted its elbow and easily bending the fragile steel under his boot. He quickly took the chance and scampered even further away as the machine reeled.

"Damn! Too close!" The machine had completely caught him off guard. That would have been the end of him if he hadn't reacted as fast as he did.

The machine readied itself again, its hydraulic legs compressing into itself as it prepared to pounce again.

"Oh no you dont!" Ritchie took the initiative, leaping toward the three-pointer and bringing his foot stomping down on the exposed knee joint with ferocity. With a popping hiss and the snapping of metal joists, the knee gave way in a shower of metal. Without the leg to keep its balance, the machine immediately began to tip over, straight toward the teenager.

For his part, Ritchie acted quickly, throwing his arms out and wrapping them around the waist of the three-pointer as it bared down on him. "Augh!" the best fell entirely on his back, his arms held tight around it as his legs shook to keep him from being crushed under the ridiculous weight of the machine.

Ritchie huffed and puffed, sweating as he narrowed his eyes and put as much strength as he could into lifting the three-pointer. Little by little, Ritchie began to heave the thing higher and higher until it was completely off the ground and supported only by his back and arms, even as it struggled all the way through.

"RAHHHH!" With a final burst of energy, Ritchie lifted the thing even higher before beginning to swing it downward, his quirk activating with his ferocious cry.

…

Ritchie cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as the crumpled three-pointer caused the trash pyramid to tip over to its side and spill out. He shook his numb arms with annoyance, thankful that the machine was dealt with now. Mercifully, whatever the thing was made of made it just light enough for him to lift. This had to be enough points by now.

"**ONLY A COUPLE MINUTES LEFT BOYS AND GIRLS! KICK IT INTO HIGH GEAR, NOW!"**

Huh… Well, there was no harm in taking one more quick look around. He just had to make sure he didn't let anymore three pointers sneak up on him. "Now… If I were a robot with joint troubles, where would I be?"

The answer wasn't the commercial-like district, but Ritchie still decided to take a look around regardless. These machines obviously had the ability to ambush, so it was best that he look a little closer. He watched in interest as students passed by him with almost desperate speed, obviously worried about their current standing and hoping to snatch up a few more straggling points.

"Hmm?" The American paused as he felt something change, his instincts flaring up as he frowned worriedly. Something was… there, it was short but he had clearly felt it. Apparently other people had too, because everyone else had slowed to a halt as well. It felt like…

Tremors.

It was slight, but the ground was shaking. Shivering, like a spider-web that had just caught its prey. The tremors continued for a moment, growing in intensity, before ceasing all together.

"Wha-"

The other examinee was cut off when a quake far greater than he had ever felt caused him to stumble. Rising in the distance was a monstrosity, a pure metallic behemoth that slowly lumbered from behind the skyscrapers. Ritchie would never forget the pure terror he felt as he saw the machine dwarf the buildings, its flat face of many neatly arranged red optics seemingly locked onto him. Slowly, its massive arms spread outward and gripped the tops of skyscrapers between its thick spaded fingers. With little effort, it crushed them into nothing but debris.

"What the hell is that!", gasped the student nearest to the American, dumfounded.

Ritchie could only gaze open mouthed as it stepped fully out into the streets, its massive footsteps so powerful that they caused the ground itself to tremble. This wasn't just a machine, it was a leviathan. It was gigantic, and it terrified him.

The zero pointer. A trap-like hazard that rampaged when crowded. Ritchie stepped back in terror as the thing stopped in the center of the city. The screech of turning gears and whirring servos filled the air as the thing lowered itself forward, its faceplate hovering near the ground. When its eyes were level with the lower stories of the surrounding buildings, it stopped, and let out a bellow.

The roar was so loud that it actually shattered the nearest windows and forced the students to cover their ears in agony. From that bellow, wind rocketed out across the streets from the machine, causing Ritchie's clothes to flap wildly and his hair to to fly backwards. When its encompassing cry ended, it raised itself back up to its full height and began to stomp forward once again.

Immediately everyone broke into action. There was no more scrounging for points. No more muscling for the top. The only thing that mattered was getting as far away from the zero-pointer as possible.

Other students rushed and bumped past him as they fled from the zero pointer. Ritchie himself was frozen on the spot, his eyes firmly latched on the leviathan in horror as it lumbered nearer. For the country boy, such a sight was so otherworldly that he had trouble comprehending it. Back home he couldn't even dream up such a thing, the most dangerous thing there was the roaming packs of wolves that needed to be chased away now and then. He… he needed to get out of here. There was _no way_ he could do anything against something like that. That thing could crush him in an instant, he _had _to get away.

Suddenly the zero pointer reared its arm back, the machine making a deep humming noise as it paused in its stride. Ritchie couldn't even utter a gasp before it threw its arm forward and completely demolished the nearest skyscraper, turning it into nothing but debris and sending that debris flying in all directions.

"Oh my god!" Ritchie covered his head as the debris rained from the sky, the smaller pieces pelting the streets and the dust beginning to fall in blanket across the city. But the bigger pieces, the massive hunks of girded concrete and iron, rocketed into the other smaller buildings. The force of the impacts were more than enough to wreck large sections of these structures, sending even more concrete crumbling away as the buildings began to fall apart.

When another commercial building began to fall into itself, Ritchie decided that now was a good time to get lost. He had enough points, the zero pointer was not something he wanted to tussle with.

Just before he could flee, Ritchie saw it. A flash of color amongst the fresh ruins of one of the nearby buildings. The dust and debris was clouding his vision and irritating his lungs, but he had seen it. Despite every instinct in his body screaming at him to do otherwise, Ritchie stepped forward to get a better look, and grimaced.

There, amongst the piles of concrete chunks and upturned asphalt, was another student. Another examinee, just like himself. They were prone on the ground, bruised and battered, and seemingly unable to stand on their own.

Deep down, he knew that the teachers would never allow a student to be harmed here, Ectoplasm had said as much. But there were some things that couldn't be stopped, Ritchie knew that better than anyone. Right now, that was another examinee that was wounded and couldn't help themselves- if the nearest building crumbled and fell on them, would they die?

He wanted to run. Running away was all he was good at. All he could ever do. Somebody else would surely save him, someone better than him. Somebody who was willing to make take that chance, to put their own life on the line just to make sure that one unfortunate person didn't get killed. Somebody who was actually heroic.

But there was no one like that here. Ritchie looked back and forth as students continued to push past him all while the goliath grew ever closer. No one spared the crumbled building a single glance.

There would be no help. He was hopeless.

"DAMNIT!" Ritchie grimaced and focused solely on the other examinee. He pushed all thoughts of escape from his mind, he made his choice, even if his very nature was pleading to him to change his course. He was hopeless too, so why not be hopeless together?

* * *

"Hey, hey! Can you hear me?!" Ritchie shook the boy as gently and urgently as he could. The blonde-haired boy on the ground only moaned and clutched their stomach tight, apparently not hearing him. "Come on, are you hurt?"

No answer.

Ritchie glanced over at the towering zero-pointer as it began to pull its arm back again, its optics firmly locked on another skyscraper. Sweat trickled down his neck, he didn't have any time to waste. "Damnit. Come on, give me your arm!" Ritchie ignored the moaning protests from the boy and took his arm, throwing it over his shoulder as he slowly heaved the boy to his feet, making sure to take most of his weight.

With the thin, blonde-haired boy in tow, Ritchie began to slowly trudge away from advancing zero pointer, attempting to be as gentle as possible.

The rescuee moaned and blinked in confusion at his surroundings before staring at Ritchie with his indigo eyes. Ritchie glanced at him but focused back on the road and moving as fast as he could allow.

"I… Why are you…?"

Ritchie grimaced as he hiked the other guy's weight up, "I don't know." he groused, "I just… For you, I might just be a stranger who happened to pass by. But me, I can't pretend to have not seen you."

Maybe if he hadn't seen him, things would have been different. But he did, and that made all the difference.

The boy smiled gratefully, "I thank you then... my friend. I was in real trouble there. That may have been the end for moi!" He attempted to put a little flair at the end there, but only ended up groaning and clutching at his stomach.

Ritchie hurriedly maneuvered them around some blocks of debris, making sure to keep an eye on the zero pointer all the while as it finally decimated the skyscraper. To keep himself and the other boy from panicking, he struck up a conversation, "Are you okay? Did one of those three-pointers sneak up on you too?"

"No. I am ashamed to admit it, but I ended up overusing my quirk back there. I couldn't move, then that incredible machine appeared and nearly crushed me under that building!"

"Your quirk?"

The boy gave a pleased, closed-mouth smile as he continued to converse with his savior as if they weren't being chased by a massive robot, "Yes! My quirk allows me to fire a laser beam from my navel! It is a beauty to behold and very dangerous! Impressive, no?" The smile grew in intensity and sparkly glitter seemed to fly off the boy causing Ritchie to wince back agitatedly.

"Uh, sure. If you say so."

"I do." The boy gave a nod, pleased with his answer, but soon his glitter ended as he began to blush in apparent embarrassment, "Alas, when I use my quirk for too long my stomach will collapse. I was so lost in the heat of the moment that I forgot that, and now I am in quite a bit of pain."

Ouch, that couldn't be pleasant. "Sorry to hear that. We're almost out of there though, so lets-" Before Ritchie could finish, the towering leviathan let out another roar as it finally caught up with them. Ritchie and his passenger both looked up in shock as the zero pointer stepped straight through a building down the street. With the horrible sound of crushing concrete and tearing metal, the building collapsed and toppled over into other buildings while a shower of debris flew in the air from the mechanical construct tearing straight through.

The debris began to rain down. Large hunks of concrete slammed into the asphalt hard enough to cause craters, and Ritchie watched in shock as the building he had rescued the other examinee from was reduced to even more rubble. He didn't have time to think about this though, especially when a nearby car was totalled underneath a slab of stone.

"Hang on!" quickly hiking the boy up, he began to drag him with speed toward the closest alleyway opposite of the zero pointer. Tearing through the alley, Ritchie glanced up in relief as the narrow path kept them safe from the hail of debris. But he still needed to get a move on, he didn't show quite as much gentleness before as he bodily moved the injured boy.

Speaking of him, he seemed rather undeterred. There was clear signs of distress in his eyes, but he was still smiling and looking at Ritchie with an unmoved countenance, "Ah, forgive me for being so rude. My name is Yuga Aoyama, may I know yours?"

Ritchie glanced at him in disbelief as he ran, "My-shit!" he quickly stumbled out of the way as a part of the nearest roof crumbled off and nearly fell on them, "-Its Ritchie! Ritchie Blackmore! Can- can you pick your feet up!?" He had only just now noticed that Aoyama was dragging his feet along the ground like dead weight instead of even trying to help out.

Aoyama laughed airily but mustered the strength to put his feet under him and help out with their escape. It was obvious that he was in pain, but with both of them working together they quickly reached the end of the alleyway and burst out into the next block. They ran out into the middle of the street before slowing down, Ritchie easing Aoyama to a kneel so that he could rest a bit while he himself took a few laboured breaths.

"You alright?" Aoyama was a little strange, but it was obvious that he was in pain. Like it or not, he was partly responsible for him now, and he really didn't want him keeling over after everything that had happened.

Yuga Aoyama took a few deep breaths but still maintained his natural smile, "I… I'm fine now. Thank you." There was a deep well of gratitude under those words, and Ritchie grinned at him- proud of himself, maybe for the first time ever. He had done something. He had actually helped someone!

The bellow roared out again, and both examinees snapped their attention to the alleyway they just escaped from as it crumbled in on itself; rubble burying it in a plume of dust. The zero pointer was walking right toward them and it was reducing the buildings to ash while it slowly pushed through them.

"That thing just doesn't give up! Come on, Aoyama-san!" Ritchie picked Aoyama back up , and tried to move them, but the laser-quirk student couldn't muster the same energy to move anymore, slowing their pace to a crawl.

"Oh shit, oh shit!" The zero-pointer was almost through the buildings, and he knew once he burst through a shower of debris would follow that would surely crush them. "Aoyama! Come on!"

"I am… trying!" The zero pointer was so close now that the outer shell of the building began to bulge outward, on the cusp of bursting. The glass began to crack and splinter, the pressure too much.

"This is not a beautiful end at all…"

"No, no no!" Ritchie gave up on running away, instead dropping them both down again and throwing up his arms to shield himself from the inevitable death.

It never came.

He held his desperate pose for a few moments longer before hesitantly parting his crossed arms, fearfully peering through the space. Lodged halfway into the building, the Zero Pointer still towered over them and flooded them with its shadow, but it was no longer moving. In fact, the beast was completely stationary and its glowing optics were now a dull black.

Slowly lowering his arms, he gave Aoyama a matching dumbfounded look, both equally shocked that they were still alive. A shrill whistle tore through the now silent city, "**THE TEST IS OOOVER!"**, boomed Present Mic from all around.

There was a moment of hushed silence before Ritchie collapsed onto his back, the fatigue catching up with him as he took deep breaths amidst his relief-filled laughing. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that he had been saved like that. Aoyama collapsed too, though apparently it was because he had finally passed out from the shock of their near-death experience.

He couldn't help but laugh. All his energy fled him as he threw an arm over his eyes, futilely rubbing away the tears building in his eyes.

That was it. Ritchie had made it. He had done his best, and had even managed to help someone in the end. Pass or fail, he could at least be proud of what happened here. Movement filled his ears as the staff began to round up the students and attend to the injured, but Ritchie didn't move. He just remained on the ground and stared up into the clear blue sky.

"I did it…"

* * *

**A/N**

**So, I'm finally back. After the failure that was my first story, I have been hesitant to write another BNHA story like this for awhile. But now that I have a character I feel I can truly write and some idea of a plot, I'm ready to try again. I hope you will all follow me on this journey. And if you feel that there are some improvements that need to be made, do not be afraid to criticize me in the reviews, I want to improve and you readers are the only way I can. If you feel that some things should be better described as well, please tell me.**

**My dialogue and storytelling have improved greatly since my first story, but I can always get better.**

**Part of my inspiration for starting this story up is because of my friend. I want to show him who the true best love interest in BNHA is once and for all, and what better way than to write a story?**

**Who is the love interest? Hmm you'll just have to wait and find out.**

**Speaking of which, my friend, who inspired me to start writing again, is on here under the username Teneani. Please check him out when you get a chance. He and I have very different writing styles, but he's good at what he does and hes a good friend.**

**Now, on other matters... There are a lot of secrets floating around this story. That is purposeful. **

**Heres a stat sheet for our protagonist. I will see you all next Friday, where hopefully I'll get the next chapter out for you.**

* * *

**Stat Sheet Office**

"So… should I just stand here?"

The older man with a camera for a face glanced at him before giving a sharp nod, setting up his tools and moving into a seated position. "Yes, there is fine."

Ritchie Blackmore shuffled uncomfortably at the unnerving gaze of the stat sheet accountant, "Should I strike a pose?" He made a couple of stances, before settling on a body building one. His average frame doing absolutely nothing for the image.

"No… That won't be necessary. Just stay there and hold still. We need to get you an I.D here, and the sooner we get this stat sheet printed out the sooner you can head home."

"R-right."

Ritchie Blackmore relaxed himself and scratched at the back of his head as the man counted off with his fingers, his other hand slowly pressing against his cubed face until a bright flash filled the room.

**Richard Hugh Blackmore II**

**Power: 2/5 D+**

**Speed: 1/5 F**

**Technique: 2/5 D**

**Intelligence: 2/5 C-**

**Quirk: 4/5 A**

**Total: 2/5 **


	3. Chapter 1: Stepping Stones

**Weeks Later**

Ritchie Blackmore rubbed at his eyes as he lounged in the slowly warming Japanese air. People strolled by and filled the air with chatter, the small park secluded in the far corner of the city bustling at this time in the morning. On the park bench, he gleefully took the opportunity to relax- back home he didn't have the opportunity to do so as much.

But even now his mind was elsewhere. Right now he was thinking back to the entrance exam, the practical exam in particular. It had been about a week since he had nearly been crushed by that giant robot, and no statement had been made by Yuuei yet. There were no results, no projections of the amount of passing students, just a long week of suffocating silence while Ritchie tore his hair out.

Ritchie, despite what others may believe, was a very patient man. Patience was an important part of life back home, and it seemed to be in his nature to be passive and understanding. But even he began to get antsy after the third day.

With that anxiety, he began to second guess himself. Had he accidentally broken some unspoken rule about interfering when he helped Aoyama? Did saving him cost him the chance to get more points that may have been the difference between pass or fail?

It was ridiculous conjecture because deep down he knew that saving Yuga was the absolute best choice at the time, but he couldn't help himself. This school was beyond important to him, and he wasn't sure what he would do if actually failed after everything he had done.

That coupled with his no doubt laughable grade on the written exam had made for a very stressful week. Hell, he would be fine with the general education branch of Yuuei if it came down to it. Just... something!

Amidst his bemoaning, his thoughts also drifted toward the acquaintances he had made at Yuuei as well. Yuga Aoyama and Minoru Mineta. Ritchie had pegged them both for being very strange people from the little he had spoken to them, but they were also quite friendly. He wondered about their own results. Would they pass? He wasn't too sure. They both weren't exactly physically imposing, but when he spoke to them he could sense that they too had a drive to succeed just like him.

No, he was certain they would pass. Ritchie was always a good judge of character, and if anyone could pass that gauntlet of a test he would say it was those two.

This was getting him nowhere. He decided that, for now, he would just return home and wait it out a little longer. Dusting himself off, he moved toward his home. Rather, his new home now. To actually attend Yuuei, it was necessary to have somewhere to live during his stay. With the money gifted to him by his father, Ritchie had a small apartment in the corner of the city booked under his name.

He examined the modest building from outside, taking it all in. Due to circumstances, he lived alone in the apartment. Every month or so, his father promised to mail money down to him, which he would put toward rent, food, clothes, and otherwise. It was a bit lonely having a house to himself, but Ritchie couldn't complain- it was a nice complex, even if he did prefer his old lakeside cabin over it.

Ritchie quickly scaled the steps, carefully avoiding a few puddles as he made for the door. The first time he came here, he was completely unable to read the kanji on the doors and had been lost for hours before he found his home. Now he was far more comfortable with the foreign language, enough that he could actually read the menus at restaurants.

As it turned out, adjusting to a completely different culture was not an easy task. There were many faux paus' that he was constantly hyper aware of accidentally tripping. Honorifics were something he still had trouble recalling. And it was only a couple days ago that he found out bowing wasn't exactly as common anymore; long after he had already embarrassed himself multiple times.

Just before he opened the creaky door, his hand paused. Glancing over, Ritchie barely spotted something jutting out of the wall-mounted mailbox next to the door jam. Gently lifting the flap up, he pulled out a pristine white letter and gasped.

"I'll be damned…" Right there on the letter was the unmistakable symbol for Yuuei. This was what he was waiting for. The results.

Ritchie wasted no more time and flung open the door, rushing into his apartment and tossing away his stuff as he made a beeline for his room. Secluded in his barren bedchamber, Ritchie pulled up a chair at the office desk and stared at the letter addressed directly to him.

With shaking hands he grabbed the letter and tore off its top, upturning it allowed the contents to spill out. A circular piece of metal dotted along both sides, with knobs on either lateral section, fell out. And that was it, no paper, nothing. Ritchie paused in confusion as attempted to shake anything else out of the now empty letter. Extreme confusion washed over him before the metal gleamed to life with blue light.

The American flinched backward as a beam of light shot from the disc all the way to the ceiling. It hummed for a moment before the beam expanded, flattening out into the shape of a screen that shimmered with digital energy. The holographic screen was blank, and the disc began shifting shape while Ritchie watched dumbfounded.

Quickly, an image appeared on the screen. It was a room, uninteresting and bland save for a potted fern in the corner. From somewhere off screen there was an "Oh!" before a large figured stepped into frame. The figure, a large extremely well-built man, took up the entire screen with his wide, infectious smile, "HELLO THERE!"

He watched as the deep voiced man hopped backward, his smile never once fading. He… recognized the man, barely. This was one of the hero's he had been exposed to while he researched. All Might, the symbol of peace. If memory served, then he was currently the holder of the position of #1 hero in Japan. Ritchie straightened up as he gave the hero his full, undivided attention.

"SORRY ABOUT OUR TARDINESS! BUT THE WAIT IS OVER! THE RESULTS OF YOUR HARD WORK ARE HERE!" All Might cheered, clenching a fist in just a way that managed to get his viewer's blood boiling.

All Might turned to look at someone off screen that was pointing a finger around frantically. "What's that?! Face camera two!? I was in the middle of… you'll fix it in editing? Ah alright, so be it!"

All Might turned, and the angle of the video changed as well. Now it was a more professional looking view with All Might taking a natural pose. "So! Richard Blackmore! Are you ready to hear the fruits of your labor?!"

Ritchie gasped, surprised that this hologram was actually addressing him, but quickly nodded to himself. He was ready.

"So! For the written portion of the exam, you scraped by! It wasn't perfect, but your effort shined through!" a couple statistics popped up into existence beside All Might, showing where exactly he stood on this part of the exam compared to the other examinees. He was very low, in fact he was barely above the passing line.

He didn't have time to think on this more as the camera angle changed again, the familiar image of the faux city behind the #1 hero now. "But this is where it really counts! So, my boy, time for the results of the practical exam!"

"From the villains you destroyed, you made up 62 points in total! An impressive feat! The examiners and I were very impressed with your showing, young man!" The number was there, but Ritchie didn't really know what to make of it. Was it good enough?

"But wait, there's more to come! You may not realize it yet, but you went above and beyond out there! You did something that few others would!"

"What…?"

"The judges were looking for much more than villain destruction for points my boy!" All Might flashed a large grin, pointing directly at the screen with vigor, "They were looking for selflessness! They were looking for true heroics!"

The screen behind All Might changed, and Ritchie was presented with a video of he and Aoyama running away from the rampaging zero pointer, the injured boy securely held in his grip. And it dawned on him.

The video continued to play as All Might addressed him, "Did you really think there would ever be a department of heroics that wouldn't reward an entrant for doing the right thing?! Perish the thought!"

"Think it's cheesy?! Cliche?! Fine by me! It's in the job description boy! Laying your life on the line to do cheesy stuff!" The camera angle changed again, and All Might's proud smile was something Ritchie would cherish for a long time, "SO TAKE YOUR RESCUE POINTS! THE JUDGES ALL AGREE!" points began to tally out on the screen, steadily rising. "YOU HAVE THE FOUNDATION OF A HERO IN YOU!"

The numbers stopped, displayed proudly on the screen was his score.

62 points for villains, and 20 points for rescuing someone in need.

Richard Blackmore: 82 points.

He lost his breath.

All Might wasn't done yet. "Not only that, but so far this is the highest tallied score! A point value of 82 puts you at the top of all examinees!" To prove this, another board appeared next to him, his own foreign name at the top of a bunch of names he didn't recognize.

"What?!"

The chair slid out from underneath him and he hit the ground hard, his mouth hanging open in shock at the hero's words. Him?! The best of the entire massive group of entrants?! He refused to believe it.

More than 10,000 students had applied for the entrance exam. A massive amount of people, all better than him in every way, and he was the one who had surpassed them all?! It wasn't just infeasible, it was impossible. Such a thing...

"That more than makes up for you written exam! Meaning… YOU PASSED!" All Might beckoned toward him, "YUUEI WILL BE YOUR HERO SCHOOL!"

With that last cry, the projector cut out with a popping hiss and clattered off the desk to land next to the awed American. Ritchie stared into space, uncomprehending of what he had just seen. His brain ran a mile a minute, and dumbly he pinched himself to make sure this wasn't some beautiful dream. Ritchie broke out into one of his biggest grins yet and laughed, long and hard. He couldn't contain his relief, his sheer excitement.

He went on for so long that by the end of the day his nearest neighbors had filed a noise complaint, but not even that could lower his spirits. The first step on a long journey had just been made.

* * *

**Months Later**

Ritchie let out a disgruntled noise as he attempted to get his hair and tie under control. Both refused to cooperate and had him struggling around his half-bathroom like a fool. He had never actually worn a uniform before, let alone a tie. So getting it all together was more than a little difficult for him, even more so when a few tight knots in his hair refused to come undone.

A few months had passed since the letter had arrived, warm spring weather had finally begun to roll in and with it came the official start of the school year. Since he had been miraculously accepted into Yuuei this would be the first day of his training to become a hero. He intended to make a good first impression, and coming to the #1 hero school in the country with messy hair and wrinkled clothes would only do the opposite.

With a final stroke, his hair finally reached a more presentable state. His tie was… well, it was crooked. Like a broken wrist. But it was on, and he didn't fancy messing with it anymore than necessary. With those two milestones out of the way, Ritchie fiddled with the grey uniform the school had mailed him.

Ritchie had only briefly gone to an actual school back home, but even he knew that school uniforms were not common there. But here students were expected to always be present in their uniform and to take care of it. Just another thing atop a mountain of rules that he would have to get used to.

With a final tug to keep the white button up shirt in his greenish pants, Ritchie stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked at his mildly kempt black hair- replete with a couple fishhook like locks, his dull green eyes, his pale skin, everything.

["*sigh* You ugly bastard…"] He told his reflection, frowning at himself, ["You aren't fooling anyone. They're gonna see right through you."] with one final sigh, Ritchie flicked his mirrored self and left the bathroom.

As the school year slowly grew closer, Ritchie slowly began to lose the confidence his excellent performance on the practical exam gave him. Doubt began to creep up. It was only a fluke that he passed in the end. It was just luck that his quirk was so well suited for the challenge, and it was only by luck that he came across Aoyama back there.

He didn't really belong here, among the best of the best in the east. He knew that. No matter what All Might said, he would always be himself.

"Come on…enough of that." Once he was outside Ritchie clapped himself on the cheeks, "It's time to go."

* * *

The massive glass school was just as impressive as the last time he had seen it and even more so on the inside. Ritchie appeared on the upper floors, stepping quickly to avoid crashing into anyone as he scanned the rooms for his class. From the tattered scrap of paper clutched in his hand, he was searching for class 1-A. The heroics course.

"Fourth floor… room number… uh…" He wondered who would be make up his class. Only a very small percentage of the examinees he had seen that day of the entrance exam had actually made it into the school. So far, he hadn't actually made any enemies, so he would be fine with anyone. He was also curious to see if that Aoyama boy had done well for the exam, same for Mineta. He wouldn't mind either of those two.

He only hoped they were nice people. All he wanted was to blend in, keep out of trouble, and maybe make a few friends. The heroic course was a class of the people who showed exponential prowess during the exam. These people were the cream of the crop when it came to heroics, and there was him.

He felt like he was cheating to some degree, weak old him who could barely scrape through the written exam didn't belong here. If anyone else could see that, see him for how mundane he really was, they would think the same.

Just as he began to suspect he had gotten lost, he arrived. The massive door of the 1-A classroom loomed over him, easily double the six foot boy's height. Obviously it was meant to make entry for people with height enhancing quirks easier, but right now it only unnerved the poor foreigner.

Ritchie didn't allow himself any grandstanding or introspection. He was here, and he needed to get the _hell_ inside before he ended up late.

When he opened the door, Ritchie was slammed with a wave of noise so profound that it actually made him recoil. His poor ears rang as he blinked the spots from his eyes. The first thing he noticed was a spiky haired blonde, viciously arguing with a blue-haired guy standing over him as he rudely ground his shoes on top the school desk like a delinquent.

Ritchie didn't recognize either of them and was taken aback by the scene, completely unprepared for anything more than a normal classroom. There were others there too. A little ways off, a shockingly beautiful girl with a long black ponytail sat primly, though by the frown she had it was obvious she was getting annoyed by the scene at the front of the room. A big man who seemed to be made up of rock, a white and red haired boy who had chosen to remain as far from the commotion as possible, and a few others all gathered and speaking loudly to each other.

There were also a few familiar faces among the group. He easily recognized Yuga Aoyama standing well within eyesight of everyone, and Minoru Mineta. Ritchie couldn't hide his smile, two people he was on good terms with! Better than he was even hoping for.

"Oh good! So you're a fucking elite are you?! Just another reason to end you!" The blonde snarled with a contemptuous grin.

Right, that situation. Ritchie didn't really know what was going on, but from what he could tell that blonde wasn't someone he wanted to get on the wrong side of. It would be best to avoid him like the plague.

"What nerve! And you want to be a hero?!" The other teenager seemed aghast at the words, gesturing with harsh movements as he continued to berate the other annoyed teenager. Taking his chance, Ritchie stepped into the classroom.

Yuga noticed him immediately and gave him that sparkly smile he seemed so skilled at making. Ritchie was a little put off, but still went over to one of the few people he was familiar with. None of the other kids seemed all too bad, but he got the barest idea that none of them were interested in talking to him. That suited him just fine, he was never much of a social butterfly in the first place.

"Blackmore-san! I knew we would meet again here! It is no doubt a work of fate." Aoyama greeted him with the same enthusiasm now that he had during the exam, though his complexion and stance were much better now that he wasn't suffering the drawback of his quirk. "Passing the exam must have been a cinch for you, no?"

Ritchie took the offered hand, "I guess you could say that… It's good to see you too, Aoyama-san. I see you're all better now."

"Indeed! I am all healed up. I must thank you again, by the way. It was such a shameful display, I shudder to think that anybody else saw me like that. Words cannot repay you, my friend."

He didn't think that was necessary, in some ways Yuga had ended up helping him out too. "Well… I'll be counting on you to pull me up if I need a hand too, so let's do our best."

Aoyama nodded, framing his chin with a finger and flashing a blinding smile, "You can count on me, Blackmore-san. There is no one more reliable than moi!"

"Oh, just call me Ritchie. My name doesn't really work with honorifics."

"Is that so? Hmmhmm, as you wish then. You may refer to me as Aoyama-sama then."

Ritchie couldn't help but chuckle. Aoyama was slowly growing on him and was actually kind of fun to talk to. The commotion at the front of the room had only gotten louder as they spoke, the blue-haired boy seemingly on the cusp of an aneurysm. Poor guy. What really caught his interest though was the big classroom door opening again, making room for another student to step into the class.

He had a frizzy mop of green hair, a timid freckled face, and from what Ritchie could see he was about half a foot shorter than himself. The new entry seemed even more aghast at the classroom than he had been, and the loud argument came to an end as the blonde cut himself off to glare murder at the terrified guy. The bespectacled teen himself had detached himself from his quarry and was making a beeline for the new student with all the intensity of a machine.

Ritchie felt bad for him, in some way. He didn't know what the guy did, but having that kind of attention put on you on the spot wasn't something he thought he could stomach himself.

"Oh my… Is that him?" Aoyama gave an awed whisper that attracted Ritchie's attention.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?" Aoyama gave him a disbelieving look that he countered with blank ignorance. Ritchie barely knew the meaning of gossip, so any rumors floating around would inevitably fly right over his head. "Well…"

Aoyama leaned over and stage whispered in his ear, "I heard that for the other group someone had actually managed to destroy their zero pointer. With a single punch. That boy looks a lot like what I heard."

His jaw dropped, "Wha- that guy _destroyed_ that thing?!" Aoyama nodded gravely, but still smiled as if pleased to enlighten him. Destroying the zero pointer… That thing was massive, and more terrifying than anything Ritchie could imagine. It only took the thing a single step to reduce an entire building to rubble.

This scrawny kid destroyed that terrifying thing that almost killed him? In one punch? He didn't even know what to make of that. Ritchie stared at him as he hid his now blushing face from a cute girl who had just walked in.

"That must be one hell of a quirk…" Whoever this guy was, there was no doubt in his mind that there was more to him than meets the eye. "*sigh* just something else I'll have to watch out for then."

"If you're hunting for buddies, you've come to the wrong place." The green haired boy gave a shriek, and the group gathered around the doorway stepped back as… something, slithered into the classroom. Leaning past their shoulders he saw a rather odd sight. A man was snuggled comfortably in a large yellow sleeping bag, and was laid out on the floor, facing them. He looked startlingly similar to an inchworm… a very scruffy, and tired looking inchworm.

Clenched between his teeth was a juicebox which he sipped boredly. "This is the department of Heroics!" he said, putting emphasis on the last word while glaring at the green haired boy and the girl next to him. With that said, the unidentified man stood up, still in the sleeping bag, and shuffled toward the front of the room.

Apparently everyone had taken this as their cue to take a seat, because the sound of chairs scraping filled the class. Ritchie blinked in shock before stumbling to follow the unspoken command as well.

After the room had fallen completely silent the man took stage at the front center of the class, his tired eyes piercing them. "Hmph, it took you lot 8 seconds to quiet down… life is short kids, and you're wasting it." Everyone had a similarly lost expression, completely shocked that they were being reprimanded out of the blue.

The yellow bag loosened from his shoulders and fell. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta. Pleasure to meet you." Unsurprisingly, Ritchie didn't recognize him. But the fact that he was their designated teacher forced him to shape up real quick.

Reaching into his sleeping bag languidly, he retrieved a bag filled with blue clothing. "Gym clothes. Get in these and shove off to the P.E grounds." That was all he said before dropping the bag and strolling right back out of the classroom.

When everyone had finally gotten over their shock, they changed into the offered clothes and moved to the field, more than a little apprehensive of their homeroom teachers attitude.

* * *

"It's… a little tight." Ritchie pulled at the pliable material of the gym uniform and let it snap back, frowning at it. It was a good piece of clothing, bluish in color and sporting the unforgettable symbol of U.A. His father's friends had always told him that blue complimented his eyes, even if he personally didn't see it. He liked it well enough, but that didn't really matter when he had no idea why he was wearing it in the first place.

"That's a good thing." Ritchie ignored Mineta's whispered remark, the short pervert lost in his own little world.

Apparently everyone else shared the foreigners confusion, all of them trying to figure out why they were out here in the field when something like orientation should be taking place. It was the very first day, shouldn't there be some sort of procedure for this?

Another oddity they were stumped by was their teacher, the scruffy man looking like the furthest thing from a hero. It was common knowledge that all teachers on staff at Yuuei were also heroes. This fact owing to the principle that the best way to learn to be a great hero was to follow in their footsteps. The same should have applied to this man but nobody, not even the more fanatical followers of heroism, could place him.

"Yuuei is well known for its freedom on campus." The teacher gave them a glare over his shoulder as he fiddled with a piece of equipment, annoyed by their questions. "Well, that 'freedom' goes for us teachers too. I can do what I please, and I feel that orientation is a waste of yours and my time."

"Alright." Giving the stationary tripod a kick to make sure it stayed in place, the man finally turned and addressed the students. "We're doing quirk apprehension tests. Softball pitch, long jump, fifty meter dash, grip strength, sideways hops, and the seated toe touch. The same things you went through in grade school."

Murmurs rose up but he wasn't finished yet, "Naturally, these tests are usually taken without the use of your quirk. Thanks to MEXT, that's a standard for ordinary schools."

Ritchie recognized the acronym. The Ministry for education, culture, sports, science, and technology. A branch of the Japanese hero society that dealt with regulations in schools. The American was momentarily proud to remember that, even if there was no one to praise him for it.

"Well, that no longer applies now. Bakugou," The teacher pointed into the group and singled out the spiky blonde that had given the blue haired kid the works, "How far could you pitch in middle school?"

"Tch… 67 meters."

"Try using your quirk this time." He tossed the boy a softball and pointed toward a fresh chalk circle in the grass. "As long as you don't leave the circle, anything goes. Don't hold back."

Bakugou gave such a feral grin that Ritchie gave him a wide berth as he stepped up to the circle. The violent boy took a tight grip on the ball and widened his stance, almost shivering with anticipation. Quick as a flash, he lunged forward, arm sailing behind as sparks began to race from his palm and fill the air with popping.

"**DIEEEEEE!"**, with that roar, his quirk activated. To say it was like a bomb would be redundant because it _was _a bomb. There was a bright flash before the boys palm ignited into a concussive explosion with such force that the grass at his feet bent away from the shockwave. The orange and red plume compressed the ball and rocketed it away, flinging it into the distance along a trail of smoke and embers.

The students all cupped their ears and gasped in shock from the dominant display of power, one student in particular actually reeling in pain from the magnitude of the explosion. Ritchie's ears were ringing too, but he didn't dare turn away from the amazing sight. He was more than a little impressed by the display- he couldn't even see the ball anymore.

When the group had settled down, the teacher approached them with a tablet in hand. Flipping it for all to see, Ritchie only felt his amazement deepen. 705.2 meters.

"Knowing what you're capable of is a necessary part of this school, and will make sure you actually learn something while you're here. That is the reason for these tests."

Ritchie gulped, staring at the numbers with a little apprehensiveness and a little bit of anticipation. It made sense. Even though the rules were different back home, he had never felt the need to test the limits of his quirk. He knew it like the back of his hand, and had relied on it for his entire life, but maybe this teacher would see something that he didn't. Maybe this would finally allow him to start improving himself, improve his quirk. It was… exciting. In a way this was exactly what he was looking for.

"Awesome!" His classmates agreed. The bubbly pink-skinned girl gave a whoop while a different blonde gave his own cheer, "Now that looks like fun!" "Using our quirks? Thats Yuuei for you!" "Hell yeah!"

"It looks… fun, you say?" Ritchie didn't like the look he gave them, his eyes more dead than he was comfortable with. The barest feeling of unease settled in his stomach, the same feeling a rabbit got when it knew a predator was _somewhere._

"So you were planning to spend these three years… having a good ol' time? What happened to becoming heroes? A shadow was casted over the teachers face from his long hair, a horrible aura surrounding him.

"Well… all right then. In that case, new rule: the student who ranks last in points will be judged 'hopeless', and will be instantly expelled."

Ritchie felt his body slacken, his legs nearly giving out as he stumbled back. His classmates gave out yells of shock and disbelief, but he wasn't listening.

...What? This… this couldn't be happening. After everything, all the waiting, anxiety, struggle… after all that, he was given an ultimatum like this? He was at risk of losing his chance all over again, and he wasn't sure he could pull through it this time. The man was deathly serious, if he ended up with the lowest score then he would be expelled on the spot.

Ritchie wasn't an impressive person. He wasn't physically capable in any way. He knew, just from the single display from Bakugou, that everyone around him was far greater than him. Even that timid green haired boy could destroy that zero-pointer. All he was good at was running away. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would end up at the bottom.

He felt as though he had finally gotten his chance, but now it was going to be cruelly ripped away from him.

"Does it sound too tough for you? All kinds of disasters can happen out there, the world is drenched in unreasonable calamity." his sleepy look returned as he scratched at his head. "If you were looking to stroll through this like you would Disneyland, I don't know what to tell you. From these three years on, all you can expect from here is one hardship after the next."

The American scowled, dropping his eyes and clenching his fists in guilt and embarrassment. Once he was accepted, the idea that he could still be removed hadn't even crossed his mind. Of course he didn't think it would be easy, but he at least thought he would get a chance. A chance to turn into someone not pathetic, not to immediately be discarded right out the gate.

He… He had to try. The odds were stacked against him, but he had come so far. Just one more push, one more gauntlet to surpass.

"This is true **Plus Ultra.** Now, step up to the plate."

* * *

Ritchie Blackmore took hold of the grip strength tester and squeezed. His thin arms tensed with veins as he bared his teeth and gripped with all his might. Silent clicks rang out as he pressed harder and harder, a significant burn building up in his bicep.

At once, Ritchie released it with a gasp and handed it back to the yet unnamed and ever stoic teacher who promptly transferred the data to his tablet. Presenting it to the American, he grimly read the score.

32.8 Kilograms of pressure. Just barely above the weakest global average.

Things weren't going well. He had tried his damndest, but it wasn't enough. Each test was worse than the last for him. He was a stumbling mess for consecutive side hops, so much so that he was sure he got a few giggles out of people.

He also knew his quirk was completely useless for the long jump, so he only ended up earning a distance of 14 feet- barely better than the female average. The seated toe touch wasn't pretty either, his own inflexibility not leading him much further than his knees. He had only managed a bare minimum for pushups and sit-ups as well.

It didn't come as a surprise to him at all, but he was still aggravated as he gripped his shoulder. He had never done something like this before, exercising in a class and testing his abilities. He had barely ever even done half the things he had here. Unless they were being tested for his ability to carry crates of supplies, he was destined to fail.

Then again, he would probably still fail to top in that regard. Somebody here would no doubt have a quirk to help them along. It seemed that for every test, someone had a quirk that far outclassed them all and easily earned themselves a seat at the top of the scores. That brown haired girl with an anti-gravity quirk had earned a score of 'infinity' for the ball toss for chrissakes!

"Blackmore! Get over here! You're up for the dash!" The teacher barked at him, and Ritchie immediately shot to action and moved over to them. Ignoring the looks some of his classmates gave him, he hurried to take his place on the chalk line, staring down the 50 meter lane given to him and the high speed camera at its end. Off to the side, the other students watched from the sidelines, interested in how they would apply their quirks for this test.

Ritchie glanced at either side of him, taking note of the students who would be running it with him. To his right, a girl with long black hair large hands and a strangely shaped face stood. Tsuyu Asui, he had heard the teacher call her. A frog-type quirk user, this girl had some of the appearances of the amphibian, such as her large eyes and the long tongue he kept catching a glimpse of.

She gave him a glance when she caught his stare and gave him what he assumed was a smile, her pretty face not really suited to expressiveness. Ritchie gave her a nod back, despite his anxiety, and glanced at the other person.

Six webbed arms, a well built body, and some sort of half mask covering the lower part of his face. Mezo Shoji. The man was imposing and Ritchie didn't feel the need to stare at him anymore. He focused back on the test.

Suddenly, all the anxiety bled away as Ritchie realized what he was doing. A 50 meter dash… It was his only chance to make up the points enough to at least have a chance of placing. His quirk was perfectly suited to it, there was no doubt about that.

It would probably be the only time he would be able to use his quirk to its full potential in these tests. He absolutely could not squander it. Otherwise he could kiss this chance goodbye.

"Alright, take your positions already."

Shoji bent low, preparing to sprint while Asui dropped even lower, obviously intending to make full use of her strong legs. Ritchie himself didn't move, in fact he only relaxed his posture as he stared at the goal. His stance was no different than if he was just standing around with a hand in his pocket.

The onlookers gave him a few quizzical looks. They had all noticed how poorly the black-haired teen had been doing so far, his scores well below their own. This far in, many had begun to suspect that he would be the one expelled at the end of the day. It wasn't a thought that was particularly enjoyable to most of them, it would be a shame and awful to be expelled now, but somebody had to go either way.

Izuku Midoriya in particular watched him with worry. He himself had been absolutely terrified by what this test entailed, but over time his worry had begun to transfer from himself to the other green-eyed kid.

Ritchie, which was what he thought he heard someone call him, was not doing well on this test, so much so that he was even doing worse than Izuku- who couldn't even use his quirk without brutally injuring himself. Was he quirkless like he used to be? No, that didn't make any sense. There was no way he could have made it into this class in the first place if that was the case. It just wasn't possible.

No, it simply stood that he just wasn't physically suited to these tests. He was fit, but not in a way that made him more capable than any of the other students. Especially not compared to himself, who had spent back-to-back months working under a training regimen from All Might himself. Though, even after stating that fact, Midoriya wasnt doing such an incredible job either. If his points were any lower, they would be muscling over second-to-last place.

"This is awful…" Izuku blinked at the voice and turned to stare at the boy next to him. Yuga Aoyama the more flashier of the people in the class, stared at the black-haired American with a surprisingly sad face.

"Ah… I-I'm sorry?" Izuku wasn't sure why he was speaking to him, he hadn't once spoken a word to this other boy yet. Nobody really spoke to him for that matter, not unless he counted the peculiar case of Ochako.

"This test." Aoyama spoke to Midoriya, gesturing at the tests scattered around, "Ritchie-san… it's a terrible shame what is happening." His words reflected his inner thoughts on the matter as he butchered the American's name.

Izuku couldn't help but agree, but he had no real way to say that. After all, if it wasn't for the other boy's poor showing it would probably be him there at the bottom. "I… I'm sure sensei has a good reason for this. He…" but he didn't finish it, he really didn't know what he wanted to say.

It was true that hero work was dangerous, and that it would be safer for those who weren't capable of handling it to step down. But no matter how he sliced it, he was just being hypocritical. He, who was quirkless his entire life, more capable than him? Izuku was no stranger to unfair circumstances, but it was strange to really see it in action.

Aoyama merely shook his head, his expression now terse. "That doesn't matter. I know that man, and he doesn't deserve to be expelled just because of a test… He saved my life. I think that alone proves he belongs here."

_That _caught Izuku's attention. "He saved your life?!"

"Yes. During the entrance exam, Ritchie-san helped me escape from the zero pointer. If it wasn't for him, I would have surely been crushed in a very _ugly _death." Aoyama grimaced and looked away, trying to reign in the worry he no doubt felt inside, "I owe him a lot… I just wish I could do something to help him."

The two turned back to the test, but Izuku's mind was racing. He saved Aoyama during the exam? Then they really were more alike than he realized. Izuku didn't know him, but he knew that it really wouldn't be fair at all to expel him now. He… He wanted the other boy to succeed, even if only because he saw a little of the weaker less capable part of himself in him. The part that had always existed before he got One for All.

Izuku didn't want him to be expelled, not like this. But Aoyama was right, there really was nothing they could do but hope for the best.

"Get set…"

The two other runners dropped even lower, but Ritchie still remained standing. He could hear them, talking, maybe mocking. But he wasn't really listening. Embarrassment and becoming a social outcast was a secondary worry, right now the only thing that mattered was passing these tests. All he focused on was the teachers voice, every syllable rolling through his mind.

People were counting him out already, but they only saw what part of the picture. In every way Ritchie was weaker than them, he had told himself this over and over today and believed that fact for all his life.

But his quirk would always be the strongest.

"Go!"

Nobody was quite certain what took place there. It happened in an instant, so fast that most of the students didn't even have time to blink. It was not an exaggeration to say that it happened in a heartbeat.

There, at the end of the 50 meter line, the American stood. His stance was the exact same as when he stood at the starting line, but now he was much further away. As if simply vanishing, Ritchie Blackmore moved from one place to another- faster than the eye could even hope to see. The teacher had not even managed to fully finish his call before he hit the mark.

It took a moment for their brains to make sense of what they just saw, the whole sight occurring so quickly that most were still staring at the spot the American once was in confusion. To make an example, it was like staring at a spider on the wall, blinking very briefly, and then finding the spider gone when your eyes opened. Except, for this scenario there was no blinking involved.

The two other runners stumbled when they caught sight of him at the end of the track, but hastened to finish their time regardless.

...

Ritchie scratched at the back of his neck from the silence, well aware of the eyes glued to him. He was completely unused to being the center of attention, and with everyone looking at him with incredulity he felt very small. Glancing to the side, he saw the stationary camera and the score displayed underneath it on the digital screen.

He rather liked the number, he decided.

**50** **meters** in **0.09** seconds.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Another chapter for you guys, and a glimpse into our protagonists quirk. **

**I attempted a little bit of a perspective flip flop in this chapter. I'm not sure about the rules for perspectives, so I hope it worked out.**

**Thats all I can say for this chapter. Reviews are always welcome. See you next friday, probably, maybe.**

**Edit: Fuck. I forgot I did say Aizawas name in this chapter. Might have to go back and fix that later.**


	4. Chapter 1: Hanged Man

Things hadn't gotten better. Ritchie pushed the sweaty hair off his forehead as he watched his classmates finish the last few tests remaining.

The 50 meter dash had been his best showing by far. Even against people like Iida Tenya, who's engine powered legs gave him ridiculous speed, his score for that particular test remained at the top. At risk of bragging, he was fairly certain he had set a world record in terms of covering distance with a quirk. More pertinent, the other students had stopped looking at him with pity, but now with interest. They weren't counting him out just yet, and that was more inspiring to him than it really should have been.

But that was it. One test that he had passed flawlessly in a wide array of ones where he placed at the bottom of the class. It wasn't nearly enough points to save him from the expulsion hanging over their heads, not unless he managed to pull another miracle.

The only small comfort was that a few others were having just as hard a time as he was. The green-haired boy, whom he still didn't know by name, wasn't doing so hot either. It was strange considering he had allegedly destroyed the zero pointer in his entrance exam, but Ritchie had to assume his quirk had a similar problem as his own. Thanks to his score on the 50 meter dash, Ritchie had pulled ahead of the freckled boy, but it was close no matter how he looked at it.

Mineta wasn't doing too well either. His quirk, the ability to pop off rubbery locks of his air for various purposes, had helped him along for the most part. But he had yet to do anything impressive enough to really pull him ahead.

"Here." Ritchie fumbled to catch the worn softball as the teacher tossed it to him. He stared at it in trepidation, well aware that this would be the second to last test for him. The last big chance to get enough points to save himself.

He gripped the ball tight in his hand and ambled toward the circle, heart thudding heavily in his chest in an erratic beat. Under the eyes of his classmates, Ritchie took up the plate and stared down the long expanse of the field, his breath coming out in elating puffs. This spot provided a perfect view of the immaculate field, the city in the horizon, and looking back provided an impressive glimpse of the school. Any other day he may have been able to truly enjoy it.

Ritchie stared at the field, then at the ball in his hand, then at his feet. He shuffled his sneaker through the grass, disturbing the wrinkled green blades. He had to make a top score here, there was no other choice. To do that, he had to use his quirk, there was just no other way he could physically stand a chance against the others.

That only left the matter of how.

"Blackmore." Ritchie glanced up and met the surprisingly intense eyes of their homeroom teacher, the man glaring him down. "I may have said it before, but I want to make sure you understand. Do whatever you need to to make that ball fly, but you may _not _leave that circle. That is the rule everyone must follow." His tone was deadly serious and his eyes never left the shivering boy, "Am I clear?"

"Y-yes. Crystal…"

"Good. Then throw it." Aizawa stepped out of the way, allowing the American to regain his focus, the warning echoing in his head.

He needed to use his quirk to move that ball all that distance without leaving the circle. He mulled over the scores in his mind while testing the weight of the ball in his hand. To pass this test and stand a chance, he needed to throw the ball at least 100 meters. It was possible, in a human sense, but not for him. He needed his quirk, he needed to find a way to use his quirk under these circumstances.

But he couldn't. Ritchie was not a particularly smart individual. He could think for himself and had a pretty good memory, but he was not a problem solver or a strategist. A smarter man may have found a way to use his quirk to throw the ball without leaving the circle, but that man wasn't Ritchie. The foreigner simply couldn't find a way to fit his quirk into this equation.

'_No… No… none of that would work. My quirk can't do this!'_

"Hurry the fuck up, will ya?!" The fiery blonde yelled at him, shattering his focus and causing him and everyone nearby to flinch at the volume.

Time was up, there would be no more stalling. He either threw it now, or not at all.

He took one last breath before acting. Smoothly and powerfully his right arm reared back once again, gripping the ball tightly, his arm cocked back slightly before setting into motion. Back home, he had seen those baseball videos his father kept, and he did his best to match the form the pitchers took on. His muscles strained as he cut through the air and released the ball with as much force as he could muster.

There was no sound as it left his fingers, flying much like an ordinary baseball would, before crashing into the grass a distance away. It was a simple throw, little to no technique or skill in it, but it was all Ritchie could do. He shook his slightly numb arm out as the teacher presented the tablet for him to see.

**46 Yards.**

Ritchie grimaced. It wasn't enough, Not by a long shot. Swallowing whatever pride he had left, Ritchie left the circle and moved back to join the other students. There was no real reaction to his showing, a few others had thrown similar distances after all. But he did manage to catch a few confused glances, and he could almost hear that inner question. _Why didn't he use his quirk?_

Why indeed.

46 yards though… An average person of his age could throw at about 83 yards. He didn't even reach that. It was shameful, and was almost the lowest distance of the entire class.

The worst part? Is that he had tried his hardest. It wasn't that it was a dud throw, or that he could try harder if he gave it one more attempt. That was all his strength poured into that pitch. He knew that if he did it again there would be no improvement. There was no lack of spirit or effort, he simply wasn't strong enough to make up the difference. It was a very sobering realization.

Aoyama, who had been close by for most of the quirk apprehension tests as his only real friend, gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder alongside a shiny smile. It was aggravatingly bright, but it did manage to at least get his mind out of the gutter. What's done is done. He could only cross his fingers and pray now.

"Midoriya, you're up next."

The green haired boy, Midoriya, quickly took his place in the circle now. Ritchie sized him up quickly and made sure to pay attention. Midoriya had yet to reveal the extent of his quirk, and Ritchie had a feeling deep in his gut that he wouldn't hold back now. Midoriya was the only buffer between himself and the lowest score. He would never wish failure on anyone else, certainly not for his own gain, but this moment would decide the result of the apprehension test once and for all.

With a short breath to hype himself up, Midoriya pulled his arm back and gripped the ball as tight as he could. The American instantly noticed the muscles in his arm tighten up, his body rearing back into a no doubt powerful overhand pitch.

It was brief, but Ritchie thought he saw something dance along the taut muscles in the shorter boys arms. Something like electricity, green and bright, briefly arcing up his arm before abruptly fizzling out.

With a yell, Midoriya rocked forward and threw the ball with all his might. The ball sailed for a moment, before bouncing off the grass roughly. It bounced twice before rolling to a gentle stop. The screen in the teachers hand lit up instantly.

**50 Yards. **On the dot.

_Wait. That's it? _Ritchie felt confusion slacken his body. 50 yards was hardly any better than his own poor showing, and was certainly not enough to bridge the gap in points. Why hasn't he used his quirk? This was the last of the tests, so why would he hold back? He knew that the Japanese boy was capable of something great, anyone who could destroy that behemoth in the entrance exam had to be.

Apparently, Midoriya was just as confused as he was. He stared at his own hand in shock, glancing from it, to the ball, and back again with sheer bewilderment.

"Wha… Huh?! I… I know I tried to use it! So why…?"

"I erased your quirk."

All eyes locked on the teacher at that grave tone, the man now piercing the green-haired boy with his intense eyes. Now wrapped around his neck was a long length of a scarf, white in color and thin around the edges. Seated in his untamed black hair were a pair of goggles, strangely shaped. But his eyes truly were the most demanding change- they almost seemed to glow, and the foreigner in the group instinctively knew he wouldn't be able to hold that gaze for long.

"It defies reason. How did somebody like you manage to enter this academy?"

"Erased it…?" The American muttered under his breath, uncertain what Aizawa meant by that.

Midoriya however, finally recognized him. The combination of the iconic scarf, gridded goggles, and intense eyes, finally put all the puzzle pieces together.

"You! Y-you're the Erasing Hero, "**EraserHead**"!" The green-mopped boy gaped in amazement at the man, "The hero who can cancel out the quirk of whomever he's looking at!"

Whispers broke out instantly, the excitable group blown away by the revelation.

"Eraser-who? I thought that was a joke…"

"I only heard the name before! He's super underground!"

"Like that actor from Austria with the weird name?"

Ritchie himself only had a blank expression as question-marks visibly floated around his head. The name meant absolutely nothing to him, he had never heard of it or seen the man before. His own knowledge of heroes was limited to a very small group of highly popular ones, like All Might or Gang Orca. He knew a few minor heroes too, like Snipe, but only because he wore a cowboy hat.

That was pretty cool.

No, what really caught his attention was that quirk. The ability to turn off another person's own quirk merely by maintaining eye contact. Something like that was terrifying, and Ritchie didn't want to imagine what it must feel like to be stripped of your quirk like that. It couldn't be pleasant, and would be like stripping someone of the thing they relied on their whole life, even if it was only temporary.

It was a quirk perfectly suited to capturing villains though, and it finally made sense why someone like Aizawa Shota was their homeroom teacher.

"You can't use your quirk efficiently at all." Aizawa continued, ignoring the fever pitch the students were reaching, his eyes never once leaving Midoriya. " Did you think someone would come save you after you go and cripple yourself again?"

"N-No, I didn't, I just-!"

The scarf around Aizawa's neck sprung to life, the synthetic material suddenly lashing out toward the petrified boy. With snake like precision, the grey article snared his arms before wrapping around his torso and dragging him forward with a yelp. Aizawa took hold of the binds with one hand as he glared face to face with the boy to the muted shock of the class.

"As you can see, nobody is in a position to come to your aid. There's a certain insufferable hero who made a name for himself by rescuing a thousand innocents from a disaster all by himself. You might have his brute courage, but all you'll manage to do is run around like a blockhead who needs saving himself."

"You're wasting my time, Midoriya Izuku. This power won't help you become a hero."

Ritchie and the rest of the class watched on, confusion and worry building in him. None of that dialogue made any sense to him, but even he could tell that the situation was graver than he gave it credit for. There was more to this than just point values and avoiding expulsion. He wasn't the only one who had important reasons to be here, and he wasn't the only one who had their own troubles that held them back.

Teacher and student stared at each other for a moment longer before Aizawa released his grip on both his quirk and scarf, letting Midoriya stagger back.

"I gave you your quirk back. Go ahead and pitch a second time so we can get this over with."

Ritchie watched as the teen went back to the circle, now looking much more conflicted than before.

"What did he mean he needed saving?" That was the one part that Ritchie just didn't get, what could it mean? Was Midoriya in danger of his own quirk? Something like that should have been impossible.

"Perhaps it is something like my own amazing quirk? Prolonged use causing awful pain?" Aoyama mused from beside him, cupping his chin with a hand. "No, that impossible. There is no quirk quite like mine after all, it is one of a kind, it is-"

"Drawbacks, huh?"

Ritchie rolled that idea in his mind. He knew drawbacks well. There were two types of quirk drawbacks; the kind that occured after using the quirk, or the kind that naturally restricted the quirk in certain ways- kept it from acting outside its boundaries. His own quirk was stunted by the latter drawbacks. There were many things that he just couldn't do with his quirk simply because of small rules that restricted its use.

The tests perfectly exemplified that. If it weren't for the restrictions on his quirk, many of these tests would have been a cinch and a half.

Izuku on the other hand seemed to be of the kind who had drawbacks that acted after using his quirk. Those were the trickiest, and he knew of many people who chose to not use their quirks at all because of these penalties. He could only wonder just what kind of drawback could put his classmate in such peril that Aizawa would stop him.

"He's gonna get expelled for sure." Bakugou Katsuki had no qualms with saying that.

Ritchie looked over at him, a little put off by the bluntness of the statement.

"The fuck are you looking at, weakling?!" Ritchie flinched and backed away, the hothead barking at him with venom when he caught his eye. Immediately he turned away and minded his own business. Rude or not, he wasn't nearly confident enough to confront him on that.

He put the blonde out of his head, focusing on the green-haired boy instead. The thought of drawbacks and weakness left his mind. That didn't really matter; not when he caught sight of the suddenly determined expression on his face. There was a drive there, a desire to do something.

To do what, Ritchie wasn't sure. But he knew that anyone who could hold a tenacity like that would surely find a way. He was a good judge of character like that.

Izuku took a couple more deep, calming breaths, before pulling his arm back again. Smoothly and powerfully his arm cocked back slightly before setting into motion. Pulling his muscles taught, he stepped forward hard and brought his arm barreling overhead, every part of body being put into the swing, the immense force of it sending wind rushing. The arm curved, each passing millisecond putting more force behind it until it reached its apex.

With a yell, the boy sent his accumulated strength barreling into the ball. There was only the barest crackle of green electricity along his hand before the force caused the ball to rip away, a crack rang out from the power, the sheer force of it causing wind to blast around him and kick up dirt. Grass blades blasted away as the ball soared fast and hard into the sky, gaining altitude alongside a solid trail of parted wind.

Only the distant whistle of the ball dropping could be heard. Ritchie stood dumbfounded, unable to even comprehend the show of pure power he had just seen. Never in all his wildest years would he have imagined such strength in somebody as timid as that. Now there was no doubt in his mind that the boy had taken down the Zero pointer.

Bakugou, Iida, Aoyama, and everyone else were in similar states of paralyzed amazement. The juxtaposition of such a short and meek boy with this incredible power was more than they could handle.

"Sensei…"

"Oh my god…" Ritchie covered his mouth with his hand once he finally looked at the boy. The pointer finger of his throwing hand was bent at an angle, hanging limply, the skin discolored and leaking blood. It was obviously broken, and made Ritchie cringe just looking at it. Even more so when the boy clenched the hand, biting back tears as he ignored the pain.

"I… I can still move!"

The tablet flashed in Aizawa's hand, the number appearing. **705.3 meters. **Only .1 meters over Bakugou's score. It easily blew almost all the scores out of the water.

Bakugou obviously noticed that, because he suddenly scowled hard and seethed in burning anger. Ritchie discreetly moved away, not at all wanting to get in the middle of what was about to happen.

"What is this, Deku?! Explain right now!" He roared, flying toward him like a runaway train, his palms sparking. Only for a white scarf to snag his face and arms, bringing him to a jarring halt while his hands fizzled out.

"What the shit!? This damn cloth…!"

"Don't make me use my quirk so much…" Aizawa muttered, reeling in the boy like a fish, "I've got dry eye, damn it!"

Ritchie sweatdropped, something he had never done until he came to Japan strangely. '_Dry eye? That… kind of ruins his quirk.' _Even Aizawa Shota had troubles with quirk drawbacks, apparently. That was a little comforting.

With Bakugou tamed, or, caged in like a wild animal, the tests were free to resume. Uraraka Ochako moved to worry over the ruined finger of Midoriya, while Ritchie shared his thoughts with Aoyama.

* * *

After the endurance run, which both Midoriya and Ritchie ruthlessly failed, the tests were over. The large group gathered up, the teacher carelessly knocking over the testing tools to pick up later as he approached them.

"Time to present the results." Aizawa pulled out a small device, the screen glowing with bright blue light as it projected a holographic screen into thin air.

Ritchie tightened his hands into balls, his eyes firmly locked on the screen. Names appeared, scores tallied all adding up as their names were set over top each other in a leaderboard. Within seconds, the screen hardened, and the final tally was presented.

At the top of the board, to absolutely no one's surprise, was Yaoyorozu Momo, the ponytailed beauty, with **3,468** **Points**. Her quirk flawlessly demolishing the test thanks to an array of tools she produced, alongside Todoroki, who took second place.

He only paid attention to that for a moment, his eyes passing over that as he scanned the screen. Until he landed on his name, a small drawn picture of himself next to it.

**Ritchie Blackmore: 523 Points**. Dead last.

But just beside his name was another addition.

**Minoru Mineta: 523 Points.**

The two unlikely acquaintances stood side by side, their jaws slack with horror at where they stood on the board. Others looked at them in disbelief, amazed at what they saw. Unbelievably, they were both tied for last place.

"This… This has to be a joke, right?" Mineta muttered, appalled at the board.

Ritchie didn't quite know what to say. He knew that it would inevitably be him that ended up at the bottom, but he hadn't once entertained the idea that he would tie with someone for that dubious right. What would happen now?

"Well, well then. It looks like we have two failures today." Ritchie flinched, Aizawa staring at them with a bored expression. He and Mineta were the center of attention, many eyes of pity landing on them.

He looked down, unwilling to meet their eyes. That was it then. He had come far, tried his hardest, but had still failed in the end. His one chance burned up, and now he would be expelled. He grit his teeth and clenched his hands hard, disappointed at no one but himself. This was his fault.

He was at a loss. If he was getting expelled… what the hell would he do? Would he have to go back home, back to the ranch, and just live his allotted life? No, the mere idea sickened him. He wouldn't and couldn't go back. Never again. He would never forgive himself if he went back to that life.

It wasn't that he hated his home, or his father, far from it. But he just couldn't bear the thought of returning a failure. Of returning as the same person he left as.

But what then? Would he try for the general education branch and at least end up as a mediocre hero? Would he bite the bullet and become a villain? At least then he could change himself, even if it was for the worse.

He just didn't know.

Aizawa stared at Ritchie and Mineta, both hanging their heads in shame. His gaze lingered on the American exchange student, staring at him with intensity. A few moments passed as he mulled over something, his inner thoughts an enigma to all.

"All of you return to the classroom. Midoriya, stop by the nurse office first and get that finger fixed." Izuku nodded, but couldn't stop shooting furtive glances at the two flunk-outs. Aizawa made sure to address them, "You two. Stay here."

Ritchie and Mineta silently nodded and watched as the rest of the class left. Silence filled the field, now with only three people there was nothing to fill the void, no easy chatter between classmates to ease the tension. Ritchie and Mineta certainly didn't have the will to speak, and Aizawa seemed content to stare holes into them.

Blackmore could feel the sweat slide down his palm as he bit his lip. They were last, they would be expelled, so what was happening? Why wouldn't he just get it over with? Maybe he wanted to scold him, remind him that he didn't belong here. It was unnecessary.

"Two students in last place. I would say I'm surprised it's you two, but I'm not." Mineta grimaced and almost retorted in defensive anger, but wisely clicked his mouth shut.

"Well…" Aizawa sighed, roughing a hand through his hair as he groaned in annoyance. He paused for a moment, as if mulling something over. "It would be a pain to expel both of you, so we're going to solve this right now. Follow me."

Mineta and Ritchie shared a confused look, but Aizawa was already stalking across the field. The two hurried to follow him, the teacher leading them toward a corner in the shadow of the school.

Here there was a large square patch of ground, orange and squishy clay patted down in stark contrast to the maintained grassy field. In the center of the clay were two long steel poles jutting out from the ground a short distance apart, and at the top of the poles was another long steel bar. Ritchie didn't really know what to make of it.

"This is a pull-up bar. To decide which of you get to stay, you both are going to hang from this bar for as long as you can. A dead hang, if you know what that is. The first one to touch the ground will be expelled. Is that clear?"

Ritchie looked at the teacher in shock, his eyes wide as can be. They were getting a second chance? To be bluntly honest, he expected to have just been expelled without a word in his defence. Aizawa didn't seem like the type to give second chances.

But there was a caveat. Ritchie looked at Mineta, both of their eyes locking. One of them would be expelled. Before, there was the entire class to contend with, but now they were directly competing to avoid expulsion, at the cost of the other.

It was another chance, the only chance to avoid being expelled. But that would mean that Mineta, the first friend he had made since coming to this country, would be expelled. Could he live with that?

They shared a silent conversation, none sure how they felt on the matter, but they did voice their understanding to the teacher.

"O-okay. I understand."

"Right…"

"Good. Then get on the square." Aizawa pulled out his tablet as the two stepped under the bars, the space between them only enough to keep them inches away from each other. "I'll set this timer for an hour. If you're still hanging on after that, I'll just choose who to expel so I can get back to the other more deserving students."

The words were harsh, but Ritchie couldn't find fault in them. It resonated in his head as he stared up at the bar, anxiety twisting in his chest. This test was nothing like the others. It would put his will to the test, and would decide just how badly he wanted to go to this school.

Of course, it was another one where his quirk wouldn't help either. Ritchie wasn't even fazed by that particular point.

"Now get up there."

Ritchie reached up and grasped the bar, while Mineta used his quirk to bounce up and grab hold of it. The American pulled his legs up, bending and crossing them as he got the best grip he could. He let out an anxious breath, steeling himself for the long haul as he tightened his grip, Mineta doing much the same beside him.

"Here we go…"

* * *

As it turned out, hanging only by your arms for a prolonged amount of time was not a pleasant experience. In fact, it was no overestimation to say it was one of the most unpleasant tortures one could exert on themselves in this mortal coil by far.

That was too many big words for Ritchie though. His inner monologue consisted of a lot more nonsensical pained groans and complaining.

It had only been minutes since this final test began, twenty at the most. The strain had begun to set in. Both of the competing teens were left with sweaty skin and agonized expressions as they hung on for dear life. The muscles along their arms burned something awful, and the sweat building up on their fingers forced them to constantly shift their hands.

"This… This is such bullshit…" Mineta groaned from beside him.

He grunted in agreement, but couldn't speak for how tightly he was focusing on keeping his fingers flush with the bar. There was no amount of simile that he could come up with to describe just how much this sucked- and it was made all the worse that he knew this was only the beginning.

As they suffered, Aizawa watched on like a statue. He offered them no words, merely staring at them with that unshakeable expression of boredom and nonchalonce.

Aizawa didn't think he could last the hour, Ritchie would bet his life on that. Part of him was inclined to agree; the part that was appalled by how much pain he was in in particular. But another part of him was desperate to prove him wrong.

He was 50% desire to pass this test, and 50% pure spite to get back at Aizawa for putting him through it in the first place. Now, Ritchie wasn't a mathematician, but that meant 100% of him was dedicated to getting through this hour.

Ritchie readjusted his grip and hardened his resolve. He would get into this school no matter what.

* * *

Time had not been kind to the two students. As the minutes crawled by, the difficulty of maintaining their grip only got harder and harder. Neither of them bothered to keep track of time anymore, they just tried their hardest not to fall. Though, deep in their hearts, they knew the hour was not even close to over.

Ritchie Blackmore's breathing was strained, his chest heaving as he squinted through the sweat pouring from his hair- gluing the black strands to his skin. He really wished he could wipe it away, but he knew if he tried he would only fall. He had to power through this no matter what.

For the first time in a long while Ritchie was thankful for all the work he did back home. Heaving crates, shoveling snow, handling labor, everything had made his arms just a little tougher than a normal person's; his endurance greater than what was normal. His long arms made the task even easier.

Mineta, however, was not so fortunate. He did not have the luxury of exercising his arms often, and his short stature made him especially weak to this test. Even now his arms were trembling like a leaf in a storm, threatening to bow. He was openly gasping, struggling to keep from passing out from his waning endurance. It was a miracle he had held on this long.

But it would not last. The shaking in his arms had doubled from the last few minutes, his body openly protesting what he was putting it through. Mineta's grip threatened to fail, his fingers slowly slipping despite his desperate wishes. Mineta stared at his hands in horror, his stomach dropping.

The short teen wasn't the only one to notice this. Ritchie glanced over and immediately noticed Mineta's weakening grasp, the boy clearly within seconds of falling. At that moment, he didn't know how to feel. He should have been glad that it wasn't him who would fail this test, but he wasn't.

Mineta had tried just as hard as he did. And now, simply because of the nature of the test, he was going to be expelled. Just like how he had been on the quirk apprehension test. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just.

Mineta tried, he really did. He bared his teeth and attempted to reassert his grip, but it was to no avail. Slowly but surely, his grip slackened and slipped from the bar. The vice around his heart tightened as he watched his fingers slowly peel from the bar until he was grasping nothing but air.

He closed his eyes, and fell.

…

…

The drop never came. There was the sensation of his fingers slipping away, but the sensation of falling had only lasted a millisecond. But there was something under his feet, he had landed on something before he dropped. Slowly, hesitantly, Mineta peeked an eye open and looked down.

There, under his feet, was Ritchie Blackmore's leg. As soon as he began to fall the American stuck his leg out, his foot bracing against the metal pole as Mineta landed on his limb. Ritchie winced at the effort it took to keep the much smaller boy supported on his limb, his focus split between keeping himself on the bar and keeping Mineta off the ground.

Mineta was appalled, "Wh- what are you doing?! Why would you-?!"

Ritchie grimaced, straightening his leg out and meeting his companions eyes. "I don't… really know. I just sort of did it… I guess."

Mineta didn't accept that answer.

"No! This is crazy! Why would you help me?! You'll be expelled, Ritchie!"

"I know that!" Ritchie snapped, " I know what the stakes are! I know that I'm probably making a stupid mistake, like I always do!"

"But, I can't… cant stand the idea that I'll get into this school just because somebody else failed. I couldn't live with myself if the… t-the only reason I got into Yuuei is because you were expelled instead of me. I have no... right to make that trade. It's bad enough that I'm here already, but I won't bring anyone else down because of my own selfishness!"

"But you- you can't just give up for me! I… I can't make you do this!"

"Nobody makes me do anything I don't want to do. That's what freedom means." Ritchie gave his best smile, which really wasn't more than a grimace, his words impacted Mineta greatly either way,"Besides… Didn't we both agree to give each other a hand when we needed it?"

Mineta, for once in his life, was at a loss for words. But tears had already begun to build in his eyes, the guilt and shame he felt in needing the help beginning to pour from his eyes. Ritchie had made his choice, and it was as much for his benefit as it was for his own. The American would rather expel himself before he let Mineta get expelled in his place. He had no choice but to accept Ritchie's sacrifice- to do otherwise would be like spitting in his face.

"Now… I'll keep my leg stretched out. Whenever your arms give out, just stand on my leg until you get your energy back."

Mineta gave a sharp nod and took hold of the bar again, tears still streaming down his face as he took on a fiery look. Something new blossomed inside him amidst the shame, the guilt, and the resignedess.

Gratitude.

Yuuei wasn't just a pleasure jaunt for the pop-off quirk user. Outwardly, he may seem lackadaisical, but internally he wanted to be here just as much as anyone else. He wanted that chance to be a hero- that Japanese dream shared amongst every child who had seen a hero in action. Here, as soon as he realized that he was last in the quirk apprehension tests, he was crushed. Demolished, there was nothing worse than that hollow feeling of helplessness.

Failing so soon was embarrassing, mortifying, and daunting. He didn't want to lose this opportunity, not when he had just gotten another chance. Most people believed the short pervert had a one track mind; his classmates had made it an in-joke that he only wanted to get into Yuuei for the… feminine prospects.

That was only partly true. He certainly didn't deny it, and wasn't nearly prudish enough to stop.

Maybe it was part of the reason, but a much larger part of him desired the chance to be a hero just the same as all other students. He wanted to at least prove to someone that this school meant more to him than just a selfish perverted fantasy. He wanted someone to at least see him for more than just a one-track minded pervert that could care less for heroism, someone who could actually be somebody.

Ritchie saw that. For all his faults, Ritchie must have seen that buried part of himself and was willing to put his own chance on the line for him. Not for any selfless reasons, but only because he believed Mineta deserved the right to be here more than him.

In that moment, Mineta felt it couldn't be any further from the truth.

* * *

At the side, neither of them managed to catch the small grin that edged at the corner of Aizawa's mouth beneath his scarf.

* * *

Time dilated, stretching thin to the point that minutes felt like hours. In that nebulous amount of time, Ritchie had not wavered from his conviction.

The pain was in a class of its own. The burn in his arms had evolved into a fully fledged forest fire now; his muscles so strained he couldn't muster up the energy to flex them. He could almost feel the calluses forming on his palm and fingers, the bar now cutting into his hand. But the worst part was the pain in his core. Keeping his leg extended outward while maintaining his grip on the bar was hell on his stomach. The pain there was too much to bear.

Ritchie Blackmore was no stranger to a little pain every now and then. Hell, his father had always said that he had an unnaturally high pain tolerance for someone so young and inexperienced. But this level of discomfort was just too much, he wasn't all there anymore. Right now, his chest rattled with each shaky breath, his body was noticeably shivering, and his green eyes kept drifting half-closed- as if he were on the verge of passing out.

Mineta was faring a little better. The support from Ritchie had kept him from being in as much pain, only a slight burn running through his thin limbs. At the moment, the pop-off quirk user was hanging from the bar, making sure to keep his weight off of Ritchie's extended leg. He was relying on the limb to save him from falling, sort of like a safety-net, that much was something he had grudgingly accepted, but he tried to make the task as easy on his American friend as he could. He only stood on the limb when he felt it was absolutely necessary; otherwise he continued to grasp the bar, a deluge of tears streaming down his face as he choked back a few sobs with the same fiery expression.

For a moment, there was only the goal of getting through the hour. If they could pass the allotted time, then at least they had put forth their best effort, regardless of who got expelled.

But, that dream seemed far away.

Ritchie gasped, his body finally beginning to give out. He had fought through a couple of these moments, his will resurging here and there to keep fighting. But this particular rush of weakness was one he knew he couldn't fight off.

One by one, he felt his fingers slacken, his body giving out.

Ritchie fell, and there was nothing to stop him. He hit the ground hard, his body singing out in sweet relief as he face planted into the cool clay. His limbs splayed, looking as much like a corpse as he felt he did.

Mineta dropped the instant Ritchie hit the ground, rushing to his side as he struggled to tend to his exhausted friend. With a grunt, Mineta pushed him onto his side to make it easier for him to breathe. He greedily took in deep breaths, his fish-hook like hair matted with sweat and an obvious pain in his frown as he tried to keep weight off his numb arms.

Ritchie managed to speak through his panting breaths, his voice playful and exhaustedly breathy- like a man who hasn't had water in months , "Ah… Looks like it's my loss this t-time."

"Ritchie… you dumbass! You shouldn't… you shouldn't have helped me!" Mineta yelled at him, making sure he heard him, "Now you… Now you'll…"

Ritchie expression dropped, a deep sorrow creasing his frown, but it soon passed when he gave a weak closed-eye smile. "I did what I wanted to do Mineta, I don't regret anything."

The American shifted onto his back but gave a yelp in pain from his stomach twisting, his eyes screwing closed even tighter, "Ah! God… I'll be happy if I never do a pull-up again in my life. Who thought..." He swallowed through his dry throat, "Who thought this was a good idea?"

Mineta chuckled falling on his rear as all his energy finally left him, new tears springing in his eyes as he looked at the wiped American, "I dont know… Dont you think it was kind of fun while it lasted?"

Ritchie smiled, no longer able to hide the tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. He threw an arm over his face, muffling them. All that could be seen was his trembling smile threatening to give way.

"Yeah… Yeah it was fun. Wasn't it?"

The two sat there, biting back their tears as their worn muscles finally began to cool down. A gentle wind blew, rustling the grass slightly and bringing the greatest relief a tired man could possibly feel. It was a gentle breath that coasted down from the city, carrying the gentle rustle of leaves and a faint yet pleasant smell.

Aizawa approached them, his shoes audible as he stepped into their view. Both of them immediately perked up at the sight of the teacher. Mineta struggled to his feet, and Ritchie made a valiant effort to at least pull himself into a seated position. Though it was clear his heart wasn't in it. He did his best not to look so disappointed in himself, he couldn't show that much weakness to Aizawa right now.

He had to take his punishment like a man.

"Well then… That was certainly something." Aizawa's voice was much the same as it always was, but there wasn't the same amount of contempt as before. "Don't you think helping each other breaks the purpose of this test?"

Mineta looked down in shame, but Ritchie spoke up quickly, "You… You didn't say I couldn't do it. Besides, I was the one who fell in the end. So…" Another thick swallow, Ritchie grimacing, "So it's my loss."

"No!" Minoru wasn't content to let that be the bottom line though, his voice pitching up as he finally found the will to contest Ritchie's decision. "Sensei, its my fault that Ritchie fell! It's not fair to expel him because of me! So-!"

Ritchie gave a sharp bark, "Mineta! Will you shut-up! What's done is done- I made my choice!"

"I know that! But I can't stand to trade either, Ritchie! It should be me!"

"You-! Agh!" Any further retorts were hamstrung by Ritchie bowling over his stomach, crying out. Mineta continued to yell at him even as he face planted in the clay again, the American now fighting a war on two fronts; his twisting core, and his annoyed friend.

Aizawa hummed in annoyance as he scratched at his ruffled hair, the two teens continuing to argue. Nothing got on his nerves quite like loud bickering. "Why would either of you be expelled?"

_That_ shut them up. Mineta paused with the most confused expression one could possibly make, while Ritchie glanced up with just as much bewilderment.

""Huh?""

"Sure, you fell, but…" Aizawa pulled up the tablet and turned it to them for them to see. The screen was completely blank. No timer ticked away as it usually did, the screen simply reflected their dumbfounded faces back at them. "The hour has already passed. In fact, the timer ended about 5 minutes ago."

""Why wouldn't you tell us?!"" They both screamed, their eyes bulging at the blank tablet.

"Oops." Aizawa was completely unrepentant.

Ritchie let out a disbelieving moan as he collapsed onto his back. But Mineta frowned in confusion.

"Then… Then who will be expelled?"

"Neither of you."

The two gaped, not sure if they heard the slave-driver right.

"I don't really have time to make that choice right now. So for now, neither of you are expelled. Got it?"

Ritchie didn't quite believe him. He worked his jaw, trying to formulate words through his short circuiting brain. "I'm… not expelled?"

"No. You aren't, if it makes you feel better then you can think of this whole expulsion thing as a 'logical ruse'. To make you put out your best performance."

It didn't make him feel better. In fact, Ritchie's scandalized face was one that Aizawa took smug satisfaction in seeing.

"Yep. With that out of the way… get back to the classroom once you're able. The day is over, so just collect your things and head home." With his piece said, Aizawa left the students where they sat and left the field.

Mineta and Ritchie sat there with blank expressions and stared off into space. There was absolutely no sound save the caw of a crow that had taken perch on the pull-up bar. If anybody were to pass by, they would surely mistake the two teens for a rather avant garde attempt at art. After a moment Mineta stood up, his face still a dazed mess, and walked away; only giving a half-hearted wave to Ritchie.

Once Mineta was gone, Ritchie pressed his face into his hands and gave a sound that was a beautiful mix between a scream of anguish and laugh of insanity.

It was another long minute before he worked up the strength to pick himself up and return to the class.

* * *

Of course, what neither Mineta nor Ritchie noticed was that just before Aizawa approached the two, he conveniently powered down the tablet with a brush of his hand.

In reality, the timer was still ticking away in his pocket with 18 minutes left in the hour.

But nobody needed to know that unimportant detail.

* * *

Once he was out of the field Ritchie began to feel better. It was a quick trip to the locker rooms to change out of the gym uniform and back into his school-wear. Thanks to the day being orientation for all teachers and students (mostly), there were no classes that he needed to get to after the quirk apprehension tests. Which was a good thing, because he doubted he could muster the strength to hold a pen at the moment. So he simply took his time getting dressed and made his way back to class 1-A to pick up his things.

As he struggled to slip on the jacket while he walked, Ritchie thought back to the quirk apprehension tests.

Part of him was still stunned at the sudden turn at the end, but he couldn't really muster the energy to be mad about the trickery. Really, he was just glad he hadn't been expelled in the end. Things had gotten close…

His whole life, Ritchie had relied on his quirk for nearly everything. Never had he really considered that there would be situations where it just wouldn't do anything, and could actually be a hindrance to a degree. Nearly every single test had rendered his quirk useless, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was like being naked, in a non-voyeuristic sense.

What was the point of having such an amazing quirk if he wasn't even smart enough to use it to its full potential? This day was a wake-up call for the American, in more ways than one. It was close cut. There was no doubt that he should have been expelled, but he wasn't about to complain now.

As he drifted over these thoughts, he also considered what he had done.

Helping Mineta was… _stupid_. It might have been one of the dumbest split-second decisions he had ever made. And he made a lot of stupid decisions, so that was saying something.

At the time, he wasn't thinking coherently. What this school personally meant to him had faded into the background, he didn't even think about what he stood to lose. He just saw that look in Mineta's eyes, that desperation, and he acted. Maybe because he saw a little of himself there, maybe because he knew that if he was in that situation then he would want someone to do the same for him.

All he really thought was "_This isn't fair and I can do something about this."_

"*sigh* I can't do that again. It worked out in the end but… it was too close. I need to look out for only myself. No more risks like that."

Once the jacket was on, and his tie was uncaringly stuffed into his pocket, Ritchie stepped forward and glanced up. The massive red door of class 1-A was just as impressive as before, but Ritchie really wasn't feeling it. He just wanted to get home and sleep this day away.

"I don't think I can survive four years of this." Ritchie murmured half seriously as he pushed the door open, the smooth metal giving way easily as it swung in.

"Oh!"

Ritchie blinked as he stepped into the class. Unlike before, it was now empty and rather peacefully quiet- something the fatigued boy was infinitely thankful for. Well, empty save for the two other people inside. He recognized them instantly; Aoyama, and that green-haired boy- Midoriya. The two were standing near some desks in the middle of the room, but both turned to him at his entrance.

"Aoyama-san? And uh… Midoriya?" Ritchie questioned, stepping into the class with a confused look, "Where is everyone?"

"They all left to either head home or tour the school." Aoyama answered smoothly, his sparkly smile peppering a mildly perturbed Izuku, "I decided to stay and await your return."

Midoriya piped up next, looking as timid as always, "Ah… I'm here because I was sort of worried too. I told Aoyama as much, and he offered to let me wait for you to come back."

Huh. Ritchie felt a little warm in the chest. It was nice to know that they cared enough to wait for him. It did manage to make him feel a little better. Though he didn't really know why Midoriya would wait, they had never even spoken a word to each other. For all intents and purposes they were strangers.

Aoyama struck a pose and winked, "I knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would come back! The threat of expulsion is not near enough to bring you down, Ritchie-san!"

"...You've got too much faith in me, Aoyama-san. And hey! I told you to just call me Ritchie. I'll die from embarrassment!"

"I-if you don't mind me asking… What happened? Are you…?"

"No." Ritchie quickly shook his head, "Aizawa-Sensei gave us another test and well… Long story short, neither of us are being expelled."

Aoyama seemed surprised by this, "Really? Well then… I knew that you would find a way but I didn't think Mineta-san would make it too."

Ritchie frowned at the wording and shot Yuga a disapproving glare, " Mineta is stronger than he looks you know. It's just that the expulsion part was a… ahem, '_logical ruse'._" He said, his voice monotone when he remembered the teachers parting words.

Neither of them seemed to understand that, but he wasn't at all willing to describe what happened there. It was better just locked up and forgotten for now, lest he contract PTSD. The last thing he needed was to dream about being put through the wringer by Aizawa-sensei tonight.

"Well…" Midoriya piped up, smiling at the news, "I'm glad no one was expelled in the end."

Ritchie stepped closer to the two, leaning onto a desk with a weary sigh. "Yeah, me too. It would have been pretty embarrassing to be kicked out on the first day."

For the moment, the comfortable atmosphere of the classroom was welcoming. The three eagerly spoke about the tests and their opinions on it, finding common ground on their performances or shooting dubious looks to Aoyama when he described how he approached the tests.

Though they each had vastly different personalities, Ritchie was surprised at how easy it was to talk to them about something so simple. Midoriya in particular had eased up on his timid shell slightly the longer they spoke. Not nearly enough to cure his stuttering, of course.

The green-haired teen was a bit timid, but he was also a font of knowledge. When prompted, he easily recited some of the aspects of the quirks used by their classmates during the tests. A few in particular caught his interest. The explosive sweat that Bakugou used, the ability to create seemingly any object by Yaoyorozu, and invisibility for one Toru Hagakure.

He didn't even realize that there was an invisible person in the class until Midoriya pointed that out. Even with the floating set of clothes that aced the sustained side-hops. It just went to show how utterly unobservant he was when worried about saving his own skin.

Either way, after they finished discussing a comfortable silence settled in the room. Two of the three teens were simply bad at social speaking, and the third one seemed to be deep in contemplation. Midoriya and Blackmore were more than content to let the silence stretch on a little longer, but Aoyama soon interjected and ended the moment.

"Ritchie-san… I'm sorry."

Ritchie blinked and turned to Aoyama who, for once, wasn't smiling. "What? You're sorry? Why?"

"Before we went to the field, you told me that you we're going to rely on me. But I couldn't even help you when you were about to be expelled." Aoyama gave a weak smile, his guilt dripping from his words like melted candy, "I am… not a good friend."

This was what he was hung up on? In a way it did make sense. Ritchie had saved his life during the entrance exam after all; not being able to repay that debt during such a crucial moment must have gotten under his skin a little.

"I don't really know what youre talking about." Ritchie clamped a hand on the marginally shorter-boys shoulder, just like his father always did for him. For the little time he had known him, Aoyama had always seemed sort of unflappable and energetic, so seeing him so down over something _he _did didn't sit well with him.

"There was really nothing you could have done. It was a personal test for all of us. It was nobody's fault but my own that I failed like that."

Well, in the end he had helped Mineta, but that was better left unsaid.

His words did comfort Aoyama a little, but he still frowned with some guilt, "Even so… It is not proper of me to simply leave you to your fate. I could have done more."

"Look… Right now we're just supposed to be students- it isn't worth letting all this get to you. Don't worry about all that, alright? Once we become heroes, then you can worry about owing me. That sound fair?"

Really, he just didn't want Aoyama deliberating over something so unimportant. Paying him back really wasn't worth the time or effort, so it would be better if he didn't feel obligated to do so.

Slowly but surely, that grin came back, and Aoyama gave a vigorous nod, "I'll hold you to that then, Ritchie-san."

"Seriously. Quit it with the name."

The two shared a short laugh and Ritchie moved back to the desk while also turning to Midoriya.

"Besides… I'm not the only one who had it hard out there. You weren't doing so hot either, Midoriya-san."

Midoriya couldn't hide his scarlet blush, even if he hadn't ended up in last place in the end it was still embarrassing just how badly he had done. "Yes It was very, uh, hard for me…"

"Your quirk right? I saw what it could do, it was really something. Though i can see why you weren't eager to use it. Speaking of which…" Ritchie bent down slightly and looked at Midoriya's hand. "Is your finger all right?"

Izuku quickly covered his hand, blushing even harder. "Oh! Yeah! Recovery girl saw to it! She has this really cool healing quirk that speeds up my bodies regenerative processes! When she used it on me, my body naturally healed itself at an incredible speed- so it didn't even leave any scars! Oh! But her quirk also causes my body to get more tired as well since my body is using all its energy to regenerate. But even with that I think a quirk like that would be great in the field, to heal up heroes who get hurt so they can get right back into the action! In fact, I think if it was combined with an energy-enhancing quirk it could-"

The last coherent word Ritchie heard was "Tired". With muted amazement, he watched as Midoriya devolved into a mess of fast-paced muttering. All that timid reservedness just melted away as he took to talking about, well, something.

Ritchie looked to Aoyama, but he seemed just as lost.

"Woah, hey!" Ritchie decided to cut into the muttering, he was fairly certain he had just heard the words "_Curry Rice"_ and he wasn't at all willing to see how far down the rabbit hole that line of logic was going to go. Izuku stopped short, paused, and then blushed brighter than humanly possible, "Do you… do that often?"

"Ahhh! Please just forget I did that! I can't help it sometimes!"

Aoyama gave a chuckle, framing his chin with his thumb and forefinger yet again as he feigned thoughtfulness. "You get flustered quite easily, my freckled-friend. It really is hard to believe that you destroyed that zero pointer."

"You're right. If I didn't see first hand what that quirk is capable of, I don't know if i would have believed it either." Ritchie nodded in agreement, but only spoke half truthfully.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that appearances could be misleading. He had personally met people who seemed weak on the outside, but were owners of truly impressive quirks. Nothing quite as stunning as Midoriya's, but still.

"Y-you two know about that?!"

"Huh? Well of course." Ritchie frowned in contemplation, "I haven't even gone to school for that long, but even I know that word travels quick on things like that. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole school at least heard about it."

"That's just… great."

Obviously, Midoriya wasn't too keen on the attention that must have gotten him. And although they were both on the path to becoming heroes that would always naturally be in the spotlight, Ritchie shared the sentiment. Nothing good ever came from bragging nor being the center of attention. That was just a rule for high-school life!

Or so he assumed. Really, Ritchie was the last person to trust on anything to do with socializing with people in his age group.

"Do not worry about that, Midoriya-san. Once i make my big break, they will too mesmerized by my sparkling to embarass you any longer." Aoyama said.

"Thank you…?" That felt an awful lot like a backhanded compliment, though Yuga was so earnest in everything he said that Midoriya really couldn't get annoyed at him.

"I think what he means to say is that they'll forget pretty quickly. Tomorrow is another day, and if it's even half as hard as it was today then those kinds of things will be the last thing I'm worrying about."

"You-You're right. I can't let something like that distract me. T-thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now…" Ritchie groaned and stretched himself like a cat, " If you two don't mind, I'm gonna go home and put my poor arms on ice. This day has been… long."

Ritchie collected his things quickly, tucking them under his arm awkwardly. But stopped for a moment and gave Midoriya an unreadable look.

"Oh, and Midoriya-san. This time didn't really end well for me. But next time _I'll _be the one with the higher score. So don't you go getting comfortable on me." It wasn't like him to get so competitive, he was usually more content to just let things happen and to go with the flow. But when he looked at Midoriya, he couldn't help but feel the need to show him how seriously he was taking this school.

He would take this failure today and improve from it, and what better way to ensure that then to make a promise here and now?

Midoriya gave a sharp nod, smiling at the declaration. Neither of them were about to let their poor performance today stop them.

"I won't. I look forward to it, Ritchie-san!"

Blackmore rounded on him, "Ritchie! It's just Ritchie!"

* * *

**A/N: **

**Another day, another chapter. Not much to say on this one. I do understand that some people might not be pleased with the... ahem, choices I've made. But please understand there is method to my madness. To me, at least.**

**On another point, something I failed to mention is that this story takes place in a partial AU. Nothing major I assure you, but I have taken the liberty to alter a few things to better shake up the story. The biggest thing as of right now is my approach to America, which I've handled a little differently.**

**Also, I'll answer reviews in this little author notes from time to time, just to keep every one on the same page in case things need clarifying. IE:**

**IrisL'nfer: You're on the right track, but quirks arent always that simple cut. It might seem like just teleportation, but for quirks in this story you'll have to think a little outside the box to get them. Either way, the reveal for his quirk is coming soon.**

**See you all maybe next friday. Probably not, since this next chapter is going to be a long bastard to write up.**


	5. Chapter 1: Lay the foundation

**The Next Day…**

Ritchie stumbled down his set of stairs, his half-awake body ambling like a corpse into the small kitchen his apartment had. The fresh morning air filtering from his window trailed across his skin, his pair of boxer shorts and thin shirt doing nothing to protect him from the shiver that trailed up his spine. The cold tile beneath his bare feet did little to help him either.

Peering through his half-lidded eyes, Ritchie Blackmore took in the kitchenette. He actually hadn't gotten a chance to break in this part of his new home yet, mostly due to lack of necessity. But now that he had, oh… 40 minutes until the second day of school started, he didn't feel that eating out would be such a good idea.

He threw open the small fridge door and grabbed the first thing he saw: a microwavable breakfast burger, hardly healthy but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Or something to that measure. Really, these things just tasted good.

Shrugging his shoulders, Ritchie tossed it into the microwave on the table and started it up. Not sparing the thing another glance, Ritchie left the kitchen to get dressed- barely biting back a yawn.

The quaint apartment was filled with a mighty racket as the sound of struggling and thrown open drawers rang out. The burger continued to lazily spin as a hamper crashed down the steps to the frantic curses of the American foreigner. Ritchie attempted to put on both his shirt and pants at the same time, which actually turned out to be rather efficient, even if risky.

There was one more muted crash before silence fell, then Ritchie walked back into the kitchen dressed in most of the Yuuei uniform. The pants, the white shirt, the jacket hanging over his shoulders; it was a little wrinkled, but a quick smoothing over with his hands got him looking presentable once more. The only parts he had failed to put on were his socks and his tie, which he knew would suck up way too much valuable time.

Giving one last tug at his jacket, Ritchie glanced to the microwave and found that there were still a few minutes remaining before he could sate his gnawing hunger. With a childish pout, he pulled a chair out from under the nearby dining table and took a seat. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind drifting off.

Yesterday, after speaking with Midoriya and Aoyama, he wasted no time in getting home. That night he had familiarized himself with the Yuuei handbook before turning in for the night. Thankfully, with a good night's rest his overworked arms finally felt normal again. And sleep he did; the moment his head hit the cushiony pillow, he was out like a light. It had been a long time since he slept so deeply, he was just glad he hadn't slept straight through his last emergency clock.

Ritchie frowned as he recalled the events of yesterday. It was not a pretty first day by any means, and had brought to light a lot of things he wasn't strictly comfortable with. Mainly, his weakness.

He of course knew that he was weaker than other people, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. But he hadn't realized just how overwhelmingly wide that difference really was. He at least expected to be able to rely on his quirk to bridge the gap to some degree, but Aizawa-Sensei showed him that wouldn't cut it.

He had nearly been expelled. He absolutely could not let that happen again. If he wanted to change himself, then he needed to start changing right now.

It was obvious he needed to take this seriously, even more seriously than he already was. He needed to get a lot stronger, both physically and mentally. But he just didn't know how. Sure, he had the basic idea of what to do- do push-ups, lift weights, or (ugh) pull-ups. But he needed to get stronger _now_. Just bumbling through exercises wouldn't get him anywhere.

Maybe someone could help him? Midoriya, despite appearing just as weak as him, had still done marginally better than him for most of the apprehension tests. If anyone knew a place to start, it would be him. Even better, he could trust the green-haired guy to not laugh at him.

But, even with all that, he still had one thing he could rely on. Despite Aizawa proving otherwise, he knew that he would still and always rely on it.

Ritchie bent forward, leaning over his knees to get a better look down as he stretched his foot out. Slowly, gently, he ran the tips of his fingers along his foot, from the top and along his ankle. He admired the black tinge the skin had, everything from the tips of his toes to his lower shin had a darker pigment than the rest of his pale flesh. It was as if he had dipped his feet into soot, the black clinging to his skin with only the faintest peeks of his natural tone poking through here and there.

Fondly, Ritchie smiled, his dull-green eyes reminiscent as he recalled memories from a long time ago. His feet have been like this since he was born, the skin always black no matter what he did. No amount of scrubbing removed the soot-like coloring, and he had spent many hours in the bath trying. It was a very strange sight for a newborn baby, and his father had absolutely no qualms with coming up with all manner of jokes about it.

A high pitched beeping rang out, forcing Ritchie to quickly open the door and retrieve his food. With little care for the heat, Ritchie bit down on the burger and held it while he busied himself with putting his shoes and socks on.

He finished off the burger and finished dressing himself in record time. Taking only a moment to switch off the light, Ritchie stepped out onto the porch of his apartment. The rising sun greeted him the moment the door closed behind him, the Japanese city already awake and bustling.

* * *

"Ritchie!"

Blackmore paused as he reached for giant door of 1-A, and turned to meet Mineta who ran to catch up to him, stopping to pant and catch his breath. As always, the shorter boy had that lazy air about him that his tousled clothes attributed to; but today he seemed especially haggard.

"Oh. Good morning Mineta."

"_Good morning_ my ass! I feel like I just got pushed through a meat grinder! I'm pretty sure one of those freaks copped a feel too!"

"What?" Ritchie felt the confusion wash over him. For the very short time he knew him, Mineta seemed to know exactly what to say to throw him for a loop. This wasn't what he was expecting this early in the day.

"At the gates! The reporters! Everyone has to fight their way in just to get past them." Mineta bemoaned, "Usually I'm fine with the attention, but not this early in the morning!"

'_Reporters crowding the gates?'_

Ritchie thought on that. It did make sense, this was the single greatest hero school in the east of course. It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that reporters and tabloid journalists would be chomping at the bit to get an eye on the students or the famous teachers. Though, harassing kids at the gate probably was taking it a mite too far.

"How come you don't seem bothered by it? I'm sure they're dying to get their hands on a Yuuei student from America." Mineta bunched his brow upward a few times while he said that.

Ritchie fumbled, unsure how to answer that. Of course, he didn't know that the journalists were crowding the front gate. He had never used that gate after all.

"Actually, scratch that. Some of those journalists were kinda cute. So don't go talking to them!"

Ritchie sweatdropped. He should have known that would be the first thing on the grape-heads… head. It was a lucky break that Ritchie was so numb to perverted personalities and double entendres. Anyone else would probably find Mineta more than a little abrasive. Or, completely repugnant, should it apply.

Ritchie wordlessly agreed to not involve himself with the reporters. Maybe this was Mineta's way of looking out for him. Though that may be giving him just a little too much credit.

Huh… Mineta must have really grown on him if he was comfortable enough to teasingly badmouth him, even if only in his thoughts.

Before he could think more on this or finish opening the classroom door, Mineta stopped him again.

"Ritchie. I… Uh…" Mineta wrung his hands apprehensively under Ritchie's curious look, apparently deliberating over something. After a moment of nervous fumbling, "I… I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

Mineta nodded, "For yesterday. I never really got to thank you for what you did."

Instantly Ritchie knew what he was talking about, and instantly he was suffering from embarrassment at having the other boy almost grovel like that. The quirk apprehension tests. "Oh! That! Dont worry about it, it was…"

"No! It wasn't nothing! It… It really meant a lot to me that you did that, even if none of us got expelled. I just didn't want you to think that I was… ungrateful. I guess."

A long silence stretched out. With no one else in the hallway, there was really nothing to distract the two teenagers from the suffocatingly awkward atmosphere. Mineta looked anywhere but Ritchie, and the American tried to find the meaning of life in the ceiling. It may have been a tender moment to an adult, but to two teens who were unused to these sorts of situations, it was downright torturous.

Eventually, Mineta finally exploded, "AGH! This is so impossible! Can we just go in and forget this ever happened?! Please?!"

Ritchie Blackmore was already halfway through the door when he said that, a quickly mumbled "Yep" slipping from him. As always, it was nice to have the gratitude of others, but for now it felt a little stale. Sure, it was a good deed, but he had already told himself how bad an idea it was and how much he already did and could have regretted it. Receiving the thanks now just made him feel like a prick.

As soon as he opened the door, he was bombarded with intense noise once again. Cringing through his disorientation, Ritchie walked into the class, thankful for the warm and somewhat inviting atmosphere. Midoriya noticed his entrance and gave him a shy wave, which he returned with a two-finger salute.

There was no chance to talk to him though. The green-head seemed engrossed in a conversation with the steam-engine-legged Iida Tenya. And by conversation, he meant under extreme duress of a very one-sided tirade that sounded something like a jovial debate, except without any of the joy. Though, Midoriya still seemed happy, so that was that.

It was probably for the best. Once Ritchie found his way to his seat, a couple paces away from the door and sandwiched between Aoyama and Ojiro, the door slammed open. Literally. As in, if anyone were unfortunate to be in the danger zone of the door they would likely be in for a very abrupt visit to the Nurse.

Having learned their lesson from yesterday, everyone immediately took their seats as the voice hero Present Mic strolled in with a loud caw of energy. Ritchie smiled once he sat down. School wasn't something he was used to, and his father's friends had constantly told him that going to school was one of the most boring experiences in their lives.

Of course, they hadn't gone to a hero school, but he digressed.

That had gotten him a little worried, he wouldn't lie. But, Present Mic, the ever energetic and loud hero, immediately cleared up those worries. If anyone could make a lesson into an intense event, it would be him.

* * *

How very wrong he was. Ritchie immediately wrote into his notebook Stop Testing Fate and striked under it three times.

Make no mistake, Present Mic did not disappoint. His bombastic personality made it absolutely impossible to ignore him, and he spoke with a theater-like quality that made him hang off his every word. It turned out that Present Mic, who was primarily a hero, made for an excellent teacher. No, it wasn't the teacher that was the problem. It was the subject.

English.

It went without saying, that everything included in these lessons were completely wasted on him. If Ritchie was willing to brag about one thing, it was that he was fluent in his native language. So sitting through a lesson about things he already knew proved to be a very taxing exercise indeed. It was only made all the more difficult by Present Mic's commandingly loud voice, which made it all but impossible to drift off into daydreaming.

Yes, he knew how to conjugate. Yes he knew how to spot a silent vowel, and knew when to use 'A' or 'An'. Well… No, he didn't know how to use a semicolon. Ritchie quickly wrote that down, and remained steadfastly vindictive.

Though, it wasn't all just bass-boosted book reading and teaching of proper use for pluralization or silent letters which somehow were still loud. Present Mic used his resources to the best of his ability. And one of his resources was an unimpressive, rough-haired American sitting close to the front.

It came to absolutely no one's surprise that he was called on a few times to read some passages when the other students failed to properly do it. Apart from him, the black-ponytailed Momo, and Midoriya, few others could fluently handle the English sentences. Usually English was a little more of a common language, even here, but these days there was simply no reason for it to be taught as frequently as it once used to be.

Ritchie was happy to do it too, he loved nothing more than being useful to people. But as with many thing in his life, there was a problem.

["I ain't gonna' discourage you a'course. But you should probably get yer dog checked out fore' it bites someone else."]

Somebody, a girl by the sound of it, giggled behind him, and Ritchie immediately went scarlet. He really couldn't help it if he had a country accent when he spoke English. When he spoke Japanese, he was so focused on getting the words right that it never really came out in his voice. But when he switched back to English, that country lisp came with a vengeance. Usually it wasn't quite this bad, but the nerves must have gotten to him.

Bakugou scoffed as he hastily took his seat, and Aoyama gave him a much too vigorous thumbs up. Ritchie merely pressed his face into his hands as Present Mic continued the lesson.

* * *

Once English was over, Lunch rolled around. Ritchie found himself more than a little floored by the size of the cafeteria and the sheer number of students filling it. Everything in Yuuei seemed to be supersized, even something as simple as a lunchroom. Though in this instance it was more due to necessity than grandeur, with this many students and with some having quirks that greatly enhanced their size, the massive room didn't actually come as that big of a surprise.

The food was almost solely handled by the cooking hero Lunch Rush. The faceless man's mysterious quirk allowing him to serve up mountains of food in a fraction of the time it would have taken a normal person. Not only that, but all of the food seemed to be of a perfect quality. In a way, it was a great quirk for a hero; being able to make thousands of meals in short order would be invaluable during a disaster when people need food.

And what an array it was. As Ritchie slid into the line, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer quantity, quality, and diversity of the meals. It was a lot more than he honestly expected; it was a good thing to be surprised by, for sure.

Though, not to sound ungrateful at all, Ritchie had seen better. Not to say that the food was subpar by any stretch of the imagination, but Ritchie himself had been exposed to far grander and more mouthwatering meals- almost on a daily basis. Lunch rush was an excellent chef, but no quirk could really compare to chef's that had spent their entire life mastering their craft.

But this was technically the first day of school, and he wanted to at least pay his earnest respects to the cooking hero. It certainly wouldn't kill him to partake in the school food, at least for today.

Having fixed himself a plate made up primarily of veal and mashed potatoes, Ritchie sat across from Mineta who eagerly beckoned him down. Ritchie was glad to find that the awkward atmosphere was gone now, and they were back on friendly terms. The event from yesterday wasn't forgotten, but the both of them had matured from it; Mineta with a new outlook, and Ritchie with a conflicting sense of self.

Helping Mineta was the right choice, ethically, but it put so much at risk. Being someone that helped others remorselessly and confidently was what he wanted, it was one of the changes in himself that he wanted to see. But it had also almost caused him an expulsion, a loss of the chance to really change himself. Permanently.

It was the uncomfortable situation where he had to weigh the benefits of a single good deed over the long term benefits that Yuuei itself could offer him. Sure he could feel better about himself by doing something good now, but was it preferable to finally learning how to be a better person than Ritchie Blackmore once and for all? Was it even right to think that way about a fellow student anyway? Frustratingly, there was no concrete answer.

"So, you lived out in Alaska?"

Ritchie wiped away the last of his food from the corner of his mouth with a napkin and nodded, "Yeah. Out in the country, my dad owns a bit of land by a big lake at the bottom of the mountains. He had a ranch built there and we live on it."

"A ranch? What's that?"

Ritchie hummed as he thought on how to best answer that, "Well… I guess you could say it's like a farm. But it's only for animals, not crops."

"Ooh! Did you get to milk any cows?" Blackmore blinked, surprised that Mineta was actually showing interest in something as mundane as ranching. Usually, this kind of topic was a dead subject for most people; especially people from such a metropolitan place like Japan.

"Huh? I mean, yeah. We own a couple cows, I handled them every now and then. They actually make us a good amount of money and…"

Mineta blinked in shock, "You make money off them too!?"

"What? Of course we do. What else are we gonna use them for?"

"Whoa-ho! You're a lot colder than you look, Ritchie! I didn't think you had it in you!"

For a moment Ritchie frowned, and shot a suspicious glare at Mineta's far too excited expression. He was way too excited and shocked for such a simple conversation.

"...Why do I feel like we aren't talking about the same thing?"

Before Mineta could say anything to incriminate himself, there was a cleared throat from the side which mercifully changed his attention. Ritchie looked over and smiled back at the vaguely uncomfortable Midoriya Izuku who unsteadily carried his packed tray. Just next to him was that chestnut haired girl with the unforgettable ball toss score, Uraraka Ochako.

The girl, in an energetic and kind voice, greeted the two boys at the vacant table, "Hey there! Do you mind if we take a seat?"

"Oh-"

Ritchie immediately cut off Mineta with desperate speed, "Sure! It's always nice to have more company."

Smiling gratefully, the two took their seats; Izuku next to Mineta and Ochako next to Ritchie. Quickly they exchanged pleasantries, he giving her his name and hoping against hope she wouldn't use honorifics. The American flinched when Izuku's platter made a heavy 'thud', shaking the table slightly. He stared incredulously at the overwhelming bounty the green-haired youth picked out.

"That's… A lot of meat, Midoriya."

He blushed in embarrassment, mussing up his hair as he glanced anywhere but him, "Y-Yeah. I guess I just got used to eating this much so…"

"I'm not teasing you or anything, 'course. I've seen a lot of people put away a whole lot more than that. I guess i'm just surprised that it's _you_ eating that much. Almost as much as my dad in fact..."

Ochako giggled good-naturedly, "Deku really doesn't look like he could eat that much does he?"

Midoriya didn't have an answer for that, but from the tentative smile on his face it was obvious he wasn't that bothered by their doubting. He just started to crack at his food.

Ritchie, however, frowned, "...Deku?"

Neither of them heard his muttered question. "Oh, that's right! I've been meaning to ask you two, but what happened to you yesterday? I was really worried when Aizawa-Sensei had you stay behind…"

Ritchie and Mineta both cringed, not at all wanting to approach this topic again. Neither of them could really get annoyed though, the girl's smile was just too earnest and clueless.

"W-well, uh it turned out that the whole 'expulsion' thing wasn't actually going to happen. Aizawa just… well, he just tricked everyone." Ritchie immediately felt uncomfortable saying that about someone older than him, but it was true.

"Ehhh?! Seriously? Those tests scared me so bad though!"

Mineta nodded, immediately following his story, "But he had us stay behind to lecture us on how bad our scores were. It wasn't fun…"

"At all." Phantom pain flared up in Ritchies arms but he stubbornly ignored it.

"Wow. That's a relief then. I'm glad that nobody got expelled! I really want us all to make it!"

Her bright and infectious smile immediately made the two feel bad for lying to her, but there was no going back now. Neither of them were comfortable with sharing what happened that day, and through silent agreement they decided they would stick to this story for the foreseeable future.

Ochako began to speak animatedly with Izuku about the upcoming class while Ritchie leaned into his arms in thought. Lunch passed by quickly, the small foursome growing a little closer as they discussed what the next class may hold.

* * *

This was the part of the day he had been waiting for. School and normal classes were refreshing, and it was especially pleasurable seeing as how he only had a very short experience with schools. But, this class was the reason that he had traversed from the other side of the world.

This was the ticket to his dream, the very thing he based his future off. Foundational Heroic Studies. The class specific only to hero schools that taught in-depth about becoming heroic, becoming stronger, and becoming better. These lessons were the core make-up of all heroes, and to Ritchie, it represented the perfect opportunity to change himself.

"I AM HERE!"

The powerful roar from the door immediately drew all eyes. With Vigor, the door flew open, and in walked All Might. As always, the man was a sight to behold. Several heads taller than Ritchie, with muscles that could make any man green with envy while still remaining tactful and pleasing to look at. He wore a dazzlingly large smile, and a costume made up of red, blue, and gold spandex.

"Whooaaa!"

"I cant believe its really him! All Mights really gonna be teaching us!"

"Such a cool costume!"

"I wish a babe was teaching us… But this is still fine."

The loud whispers all shared the same sentiment. Everyone, even the rude Bakugou to a degree, was amazed at the sight of the legendary hero. It was difficult to grasp just how deep their affection for the idol went. Most of them had spent their entire lives looking up to this man, and now he was going to be overseeing their heroic training personally.

Ritchie's reaction was subdued. He was still impressed, anyone who laid eyes on the #1 hero would be no matter what. But usually the sight of the man would have garnered a more powerful reaction, especially from someone as interested in heroes as the American was.

The reason was simple, he had no frame of reference.

Ritchie came from America, a place where there was no hero society, no organized heroes; where heroes didn't actually exist. Back home, real heroes that could be idolized weren't around, so the boy never had that exposure. He had never taken part in hero worship, never been saved by a hero or seen them work in person, and never even glimpsed the mountains of merchandise engraved with All Mights name.

He had never really idolized anyone but his father. So, he held respect for the man, but only felt extreme interest in him rather than amazement. Regardless of his pale grip on heroics, this was still the #1 Hero. Meaning that he was basically the pinnacle of what Ritchie wanted to achieve.

He had his full attention.

"FOUNDATIONAL HERO STUDIES! For this class we'll be building up your 'Heroic Foundation' through some trials! To make you into legendary heroes, you're going to need a base!"

Two students winced at the mention of 'trials' but All Might barreled on, hyping up the class with his endless well of energy.

"We're gonna jump right in! A hero needs to know how to handle a villain and stay safe while doing it. So let's get on with the TRIAL OF BATTLE!" As he said this, the blonde man produced a card with the word '_BATTLE'_ powerfully printed onto it. "Combat is the spice of a hero's life! No matter what kind of hero you may end up as, you had better be prepared to fight!"

"Of course, a hero must dress for the occasion. So! To go with your battle, we've prepared the gear you requested to match your quirks! It's all here!"

All Might clicked a button on a small remote he plucked from his cape. With a hydraulic hiss, long parts of the far left wall began pulling free. The rows of segmented walls appeared like caches in a bank vault. Encased within the walls were rows of cubbies that were numbered in correspondence to their seating arrangement.

"The locker room is at the end of the hall! Get dressed and we will begin. PLUS ULTRA!"

Ritchie glanced at the cubbies with a frown as he stood from his seat, all the other students rushing the caches. He knew of the hero costumes, there had been a letter in the mail asking him to correspond with a reference of a suit that Yuuei would manufacture for him. A costume. Something that he would wear when conducting hero work, just like All Might's 'silver age' outfit.

That night, Ritchie drew a blank. Unlike any of the other students, he wasn't at all interested in the flashier parts of heroics. He wasn't concerned with wearing a costume, of standing out, of earning the praise of millions for his charming appearance. It just wasn't an interest to him.

So designing a hero costume didn't really strike him as important. The cubby with his number, (_13, ugh._) was empty.

Of course, he wasn't insane enough to go out there wearing his school uniform. That would be a surefire method to stand out in all the wrong ways. He did have a specific outfit to switch into just for this situation. The power of foresight was a mighty tool after all.

* * *

Ritchie rolled the kinks out of his shoulder as he stepped through the door and into the light outside. His classmates walked beside him, all of them now wearing their different and vibrant sets and positively brimming with energy. Just simply swapping their outfits into ones that they designed themselves seemed to have a profound effect on them all. The wide group spread out through the area.

"My my, Blackmore-chan. That costume suits you well, I must say." Aoyama gave him a once over, giving a few nods as if he were inspecting some new fashion show.

Ritchie glanced down at himself and appraised his new wear. The outfit was simple really, nothing that would stand out overtly but also just unique enough to pass for a costume. A pair of dark slacks, buckled with a thick leather belt alongside a shiny circular buckle. Above that he wore a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the bottom tucked into his pants.

He reached down and adjusted the lapels at his chest. Over that white shirt he wore a closed navy blue, double-breasted vest, the lapels black. The collar of his white shirt was parted open at his neck revealing a bit of his pale skin, and to tie up the outfit an eye-catching gold chain hung from the pocket and button of his vest.

The whole ensemble was comfortable to wear, and, to him, it didn't look half bad. It was a number that he had put together based on clothing his dad would wear- it made him look a little more mature than he really was. It really couldn't compare to the sleek design of some costumes that he saw scattered amongst the students, but the simple and unassuming outfit suited him to a T.

The only part of the outfit that really stood out were his shoes, which were colored a dark ashen grey. These shoes were sturdy, all-terrain, and made with the utmost care. They were the same pair he wore everyday no matter what his outfit, though for the sake of his costume they had been outfitted with small metal plates along the heel, insole, toe tips, and also trailing up part of the ankles of his pants.

"Thank you, I feel a lot more comfortable than I thought I would. And… _Blackmore-chan?_ Really?" It actually wasn't that bad of a name. At least, he greatly preferred it to Ritchie-san.

"Anyway, you look good too, Aoyama-san. That outfit is very… eye catching. In a good way. Kinda like I'm looking into a portal to the future..."

Yuga wore a strange costume compared to his own rustic, western-styled one. The set was composed of armored greaves, vambraces, and a cuirass. It was a sleek metal trimmed with an intricate gold pattern, making it look very regal. A sparkly magenta cape hung reverently from his back, and a strange pair of long red glasses sat perched on his nose, tinting his eyes.

Yuga smirked, his smile firing sparkles directly into Ritchie's eyes, "That is the essence of heroism, my friend! Stunning beauty is a must! I spent three long nights designing this magnum opus!"

"T-three nights?"

"Indeed! The best ideas are born on the heels of exhausted breakdown and caffeine rushes! I could not do something so important halfway." Aoyama nodded resolutely, "With this I will be the center of all eyes no matter what the situation!"

"Well, I can definitely see that. It's a good costume, Aoyama. Well, technically, it's the first costume I've ever seen. So… maybe my opinion doesn't really count for anything." Ritchie muttered in uncertainty for a moment before shaking his head from annoyance, "Well, whatever. It's really something, Aoyama-san. You should be proud"

Ritchie wasn't one for flashy things, but he was completely truthful. "It's just about what I imagine a hero costume would look like before I came here. Though… maybe a little flashier than I expected… But, I think your natural charm makes up for that a bit."

Caught off guard momentarily by the unabashed praise, Aoyama faltered before shooting even more sparks from his smile, his cheeks coloring the faintest of pinks. "T-thank you, Blackmore-chan. I am honored to be your first then."

"Please don't say it like that..."

"If you like," he continued, "I can help you create a flashy costume befitting someone who is associated with me. Perhaps a cape like mine?"

"Oh, uh…" Ritchie muttered, wincing at the idea, "Thanks, but, I dont think I'm one for flashy costumes. It sounds like fun, but I don't like to weigh myself down too much. With my quirk it feels more natural to have some freedom."

Aoyama chuckled, "Hmmhmm, as you wish then. Though, please give it some thought. Your costume is nice, but I think you're more deserving of something that stands out. Don't you?"

Ritchie Blackmore frowned, not exactly sure what to make of that statement, but didn't get a chance to question him.

"There you are Ritchie! _Jeez,_ you really blend in."

The American and Laser-navel student turned and watched as Mineta, dressed up in his hero costume, ran up to them. Mineta wore a purple bodysuit with large yellow gloves and shoes that stood out starkly against the color. Wrapped loosely around his neck was a similarly yellow scarf, and pulled down over his hair and part of his face was a purple mask that made his large bland eyes stand out even more.

The boy skidded to a stop, and appraised the American. Due to their extreme height differences, he had to crane his neck to look at him, but it was obvious that it wasn't an uncomfortable gesture for him.

"Huh… You look like a cowboy. Is that what you were going for?"

"What? A cowboy...? No… I look like a cowboy?" Ritchie frowned deeply as he thought that over. Did he… Did he just accidentally follow a stereotype? He panicked as he began to more closely examine himself.

Mineta turned from the highly confused American over to Aoyama. The midget gave him a once over, his eyes squinted behind his mask.

"Aoyama you look… gaudy." his snarky words were delivered with the same grace as everything else he said. That is, with absolutely no tact. "Kinda like a knight that got dunked in glitter."

The insult washed off Yuga like water, he obviously didn't put much stock in Mineta's opinions. "Yes, and you look like an oversized pair of grapes, Mineta-san."

"Hey! I look like a _sexy _oversized pair of grapes!"

Blackmore watched as the two exchanged barbs, Aoyama flawlessly smiling through it all and retorting smoothly, while Mineta was quickly growing more animated and vulgar. Belatedly, he realized this was the first time his two separate friends had actually personally met. In the back of his mind, he had been worried how they would get along due to how different their personalities were. But, despite their little spat at the moment, they didn't seem to get along too badly.

"Whatever! Wear what you want, I'm more interested in the girls costumes!" With that Mineta performed a perfect about face, and leered at the throng of students. Everyone had migrated into their particular friend groups by now, and made for a sizable group of colored heroes-in-training. "That, my friends, is Nirvana!"

"Perhaps you could say that a little louder? I don't think they all heard you yet."

With Mineta's statement, Ritchie was reminded of something he had been uncomfortably avoiding since he came out here. The girls costumes were… Well, to say they were indecent wouldn't be fair to them, those costumes did look practical and covered their skin well. Taking Ochako's quirk into mind, the costumes were likely inspired in part by their abilities- the girl looking like some sleek new-age cosmonaut.

But they were a little... bodytight. The tight material accentuated their female curves in all the right ways, and it was a test in willpower that kept his eyes from traveling more than they already had. Especially with Yaoyorozu's costume, which _did _fail to leave little to the imagination. There was nothing outstandingly sexual about them, but the sharp contrast to normal clothing coupled with the natural beauty that all the girls possessed made for a powerful combination.

Shame instantly washed over him, it was completely immoral to look at his classmates in such a way, especially here of all places! These were hero costumes, they were not proactive in any way shape or form! But… Though he may forget it at times, he was still a perfectly normal, red-blooded teenager. Even further, the only real interaction he had ever had with members of the opposite sex was the old ladies that would visit, so any experience he had in this particular field was nonexistent. Such thoughts were to be expected. So, who could blame him if he took a look?

That sounded like an awfully familiar excuse. Was… Was he slowly becoming more and more like Mineta?

"NO!"

"Uh… Ritchie, I was telling you that All Might is calling everyone over." Mineta looked up at him incredulously, startled by his outburst and the fact that the American was visibly sweating in distress.

He blinked twice before blushing at the tidal wave of thoughts he had just imagined, "Oh! Right! Let's hurry then!" Brushing off his friends suspicious look with a hasty laugh, Ritchie jogged to catch up with Aoyama.

"So!" All Might started, noting the last of the stragglers joining the circle, "This is where we will be holding the tests!"

All Might gestured backwards toward a couple tall office building built into a small fake prefecture. The buildings were well worn with age, the whitish material making up their walls now cracked, faded, and peeling with time. Windows were either broken or missing, the ground around it was well broken from mysterious means. The building itself seemed to be about 10 stories tall; looming over them and catching the reflection of the midday sun in a majestic sight.

"The tests will be held inside here! Contrary to popular belief, you are more likely to handle a villain inside a building or populated place. So, being able to adapt to tight quarters and lack of freedom is a must! Hostages, black market, house arrest… It all happens!"

All Might placed his fists on his hips, "As an old friend of mine once said, 'Heroes don't need umbrellas, because villains don't use them either!'"

The quote fell completely flat. Little reaction came from the group.

The #1 hero swiftly coughed into his hands, his smile not wavering for a second. "Ahem! So! For this test, to better simulate a villainous incursion, we will be separating you into "_Villain" _and "_Hero"_ groups! You will face off against each other in a **Two on Two Team Battle!**"

"Kero? What about foundational training?"

All Might threw a hand back toward the office structure, "Look at this building! What could be more foundational than that?!"

Ritchie cringed, "Really? A pun?"

"Now then!" All Might held his pose for a moment longer before suddenly pulling out a comically small booklet and beginning to leaf through it, "The rules are simple. For this, the "_Villain"_ team will be guarding a nuclear weapon they intend to deploy. The heroes must stop them before it's too late!

The goal of the heroes is simple: To either capture the "_Villains"_ or reach the weapon before time runs out. The _villain_ team must keep the weapon away from the heroes for the time limit to achieve victory!"

"There is more specific instructions and rules, but…" All Might tossed away the booklet and grinned, "We will discuss it further later. For now, teams must be made!"

Immediately, the group quieted down in anticipation. Despite how strange the test sounded, most of them rightfully realized that the matchup of teammates and quirks would spell victory or defeat. Strong quirks partnered with strong quirks with great synergy would at the very least give that team the edge. Thankfully, there was no threat of expulsion this time around, but they all still wanted to come out victorious.

"Often, you will not be able to choose who you work with or fight out in the field. So teams will be selected by lottery!" All Might now retrieved a ballot box, and presented it toward them beckoningly. "SO LET'S GET STARTED!"

* * *

When his turn rolled around, Ritchie stepped uncertainly forward, reached into the ballot and fumbled through the metallic spheres inside. One tapped against his finger, and like a snake he immediately snatched it up and pried it free from the box.

Stepping back to let the next person use the box, the American examined the smooth ball in his hand. There, printed in bold letters was the letter **C**. It didn't really mean anything on its own. Once all students had their respective spheres, as if by command they all simultaneously raised their hands and showed off their ballots.

Various letters were held aloft, everyone staring upwards at the hands of their classmates and searching for their matching letter. Immediately, Ritchie's eyes landed on his matching ball, and met the stare of his partner.

He grinned, and Yuga Aoyama grinned right back at him.

* * *

**A/N:**

**A short chapter, with very mundane aspects. Here we get to see relationships deepen a little further and more characters introduced. As well as getting a bit of a better look into our main characters thought process. Sometimes I want to jump straight into the meat of the story, but its important to detail some of the simpler aspects: this is still a school after all.**

**Ritchie also gets his costume, but theres no telling whether or not he will keep it.**

**Anyway, thats the chapter. Took a little longer to get out since I got sidetracked by _Absolute Justice_ but I got it done. Up next, true combat, tactics, and Ritchie finally unveils his quirk. **

**Stay tuned, and dont forget to review.**


	6. Chapter 1: The Tower

Just outside the dilapidated office buildings, a passageway built into the street led the wide group of students beneath the ground and through a lit hallway that may have once been a service tunnel. The tight corridor eventually opened up into a wide open space, lit up with lightbulbs and the bright screens of massive monitors hooked up along the wall. Confounding computers with different dials and switches pushed up against the wall.

On those massive screens were a multitude of images. Most of them were the same in some ways, a running recording of some barren rooms with only the barest of furnishing. It didn't take long to understand that each of the pictures sectioned off on the screens were the different floors and rooms of the office building where they would be holding their tests.

"Since it is important to evaluate you all thoroughly, only two teams will be battling at time. The rest of us will await down here and observe your match. Of course, I will also be on standby to rush in should the need arise!" All Might said from the middle of the students, assuaging some of their concerns.

Ritchie marveled at the screens. He had never really seen anything so high-tech before. Well except for that one time… But he wasn't exactly supposed to be there.

All Might reassurances were comforting though. No matter the age group, battling with quirks could lead to devastating results. Even the simplest quirk could put lives at risk in such an intense environment. Having someone as capable as him around in case things went dangerous lifted the worry from his mind.

"Now, for the specifics of this trial!" All Might beckoned them closer, allowing them to form a semi-circle around him as he stood in front of the monitors. "Two teams, Villain and Hero! The villains will be placed somewhere inside the building along with the bomb. Before the match begins, I will allow a five minute wait before the match begins- this will better emulate real life. The villains will have some time to move their bomb where they like and set up any traps they can, and the heroes can plan out how to best attack!"

Iida cupped the chin of his helmet, "Hmmm. That sounds as though the villains will have a rather large advantage then. Is that truly fair?"

"Other things make up for it." Yaoyorozu turned toward the stiff boy, "After all, the heroes only need to touch the bomb to win. The villains have to deal with that for the entire time limit."

"Exactly right! With a time limit of 10 minutes, the villains will have to keep their guard up the whole time! Even a single tap from a hero is enough to achieve victory!"

'_Well, sounds like theres pros and cons to being a hero or a villain'_ Ritchie thought on that. Though the test was simple, it was actually laid out fairly well and demanded some level of critical thinking.

What would be the best choice for him? Inevitably, the key to victory would be how your own quirk worked with your position. Taking that into account, it was abundantly obvious which one would work for him. If he was set on the _hero _team, then victory would be assured. The other students were all exceptional in their own rights, but there was very little that could match his quirk for sheer versatility.

"Now, restrictions! Villains are not allowed to destroy their own bombs or remove them from the building! All students are allowed to approach this as they please, but the hero teams must minimize the damage they do the building. You must remember that this-" All Might gestured upward, toward the building that was above ground over their heads, "is a building in a highly populated area! Causing too much damage could put innocents at risk!"

A timid hand rose up among the crowd, "Yes, Uraraka!"

"Ah.. You mentioned before that the hero team could capture the villains. How do we do that?"

"Marvelous question! A gold star for you!" Uraraka blushed at the praise while All Might whirled in place and presented a small roll of tape. The tape was bright yellow, and seemed to be made up of crisscrossing bars of black, "This is the **Capture Tape**, all heroes need to do is wrap their opponents in this tape and they will be _captured."_

"Those who are captured are not allowed to move until their teammate touches them and releases them! Any attempt at tearing the tape alone will result in instant disqualification!"

Hanta, a boy with what appeared to be tape dispensers on his arms, sweatdropped, "This is starting to sound a little unfair for the villains now…"

"Of course, the villains will be supplied with **Capture Tape** too! But capturing the hero team will not result in victory! The time limit must still run out!"

"Why? If both the heroes are captured then they aren't allowed to move. Wouldn't that mean that villains would win either way?"

All Mights eyes flashed in mirth, as if he were delighting in some inside joke, "Always expect the unexpected, young Sero! A good hero always has something up his sleeve. You cannot keep a hero down for long! So remember to remain vigilant no matter which team you end up on!"

It was a golden-age heroic belief, but that statement still resonated with many of them. One of the most widely agreed upon belief about heroes, even amongst villains, is that they had an unrelenting habit to keep fighting.

"Um… All Might?"

"Mineta! You have a question?"

Mineta tentatively held up his own ball, one with quite a large K printed onto it. "I got this ballot, but no one else has one. Who am I teaming up with?"

All Might chuckleed awkwardly at that, "Well, due to an uneven number of students, it will be impossible to team up _everyone_. As such your trial will be a little different!"

"D-different?"

"That's right!" All Might nodded hard, and flashed his grin, "You will be facing off against **me** in a one-on-one match!"

Mineta blanched, his face going sickly pale as he went ramrod straight. Ritchie cringed at the idea, immediately thankful that his tentative luck had not gotten him that K ball. The sentiment was shared by the collective flinch everyone gave. They all had respect for the hero, but none of them wanted to go head to head with him like that.

Mineta shivered for a moment, horrified at the statement. Of all the things he expected when he woke up this morning, fighting All might was not one of them. Then as if throwing off a great weight, he clenched a fist and showed off a fire in his eyes. "F-fine! If that's what it takes, then bring it on!"

It was obvious that he was mostly putting on airs, but there was still a level of vigor in his cry. After what happened yesterday, he must be desperate to prove himself. If that meant facing the #1 hero, then so be it.

"If there are no more questions, then it is time to select the first teams to face off!" With a press of a small remote, the largest screen behind him lit up. The screen rapidly flashed, a roulette running as it decided on which teams would have the honor of undertaking this trial first.

And kept running.

And kept running.

Ritchie was quickly getting dizzy from the assault of colors on his senses. Giving an awkward cough, All Might slapped the computer and with a final ping the flashing came to a halt.

**HERO TEAM **_**A**_ **VS VILLAIN TEAM** _**D**_

The screen display split into half with lightning. On the left side, Midoriya Izuku with a timid, horrified expression behind his bunny-like mask stood beside Ochako, who had a determined frown. On the opposite side, Bakugou snarled angrily toward the other side while Iida towered behind him with a robotic glare. Izuku on team A would be heroes, and Bakugou representing team D would be villains.

Izuku Midoriya gaped at the screen, appalled at the matchup. Ritchie Blackmore, who was beside him, frowned. This wasn't looking good for his new acquaintance at all.

From what he had seen, Bakugou had an almost overwhelmingly powerful quirk. One that outclassed even his own, if only in sheer destructive capability. Iida too had a powerful quirk, one that had the capability of being devastating. And that said nothing of how intelligent the Soumei graduate could be.

On the other side, Izuku and Ochako were not quite as impressive. Uraraka had an amazing quirk, one that could definitely prove useful in this sort of situation. Izuku had something incredible as well, but they were both greatly limited. Ochako would fall nauseatingly ill if she overused her power, and Midoriya could not even use his own without mortally wounding himself.

The two teams could not be any more different. By all appearances, the timid Izuku and the kind-hearted Ochako would not stand a chance against the ruthless Bakugou and unrelenting Iida Tenya.

Midoriya was still shellshocked, but the results were final. The door swished open and All Might beckoned them through, telling the villain team to set up while the heroes would remain just outside the building.

Ritchie offered Izuku a hand on his shoulder and a tenuous smile. "Good luck."

It wasn't very comforting. The weakness in his smile obviously told him that Ritchie didn't really believe he stood a chance against the villain team. Even so, Midoriya weakly smiled back and joined Uraraka as they left.

"This won't be a pretty match." Aoyama muttered from his side, obviously following his own line of logic.

Blackmore said nothing. The odds were certainly stacked against the timid teen, but deep down he still hoped he would win.

* * *

Blackmore ducked and winced as the room shook violenetly; the students yelling out in shock as parts of the ceiling crumbled away in dust. Stones clattered against the floor, and the many screens popped and fizzed from intense interference; all the hundred dollar hardware trembling under the shockwave of the blast. It was such an intense quake that the joists holding up one of the screens gave way, allowing the screen to fall to the floor and explode into glass and metal.

Another wave sent a tremble through the thick walls, forcing the American to his knee. The lights blinked wildly, descending the room into darkness and overbearing light over and over. Then, just when he began to fear the ceiling would collapse onto them, it ended. The tremor petered off, all the blinking lights and clicking hardware slowing to a standstill.

Ritchie kept his head covered for a moment longer before hazarding a look upward. Many of his classmates were in similar shaken states, each of them looking around to make sure that they were safe. But what really gained his attention was the single largest screen in the middle of the wall, the one that provided a view of the entire office building holding the trial.

Or, what was left of it. The office building looked nothing like it had at the start of the match. Now, a massive open wound was on the building, the entire structure rent open as if a massive explosion took place inside. The tear stretched from the middle of the building all the way to the roof, exposing the dilapidated interior to open air; emphasizing the exposed rebar and obliterated concrete partitions.

Chalky dust drifted in the air, the remnants of the explosion gently raining down to earth in contrast to the thick smoke that billowed up from the building.

It was flooring. Never before had he ever seen such a destructive sight. There had been no warning when the explosion happened. One moment, Katsuki aimed his gauntlet at Izuku with murderous intent. The next, an all encompassing flash wiped out the camera sight- alongside a very brief glimpse of the telltale green electricity arcing across the room, signaling the activation of Midoriya's own quirk.

The match had been going so well. To Ritchie's complete shock, Midoriya had actually faced Bakugou on equal footing. With every time they clashed, Midoriya seemed to outsmart the hothead and get the upper hand- even if only for a moment. Meanwhile Ochako had been struggling to get past Iida to the newly located bomb, but couldn't quite make it.

Even without using his quirk, Midoriya had actually done fairly well against Bakugou. That had ignited the respect in Ritchie's eyes. Instantly he was amazed and enthralled with every action Midoriya took. But Katsuki seemed so bloodthirsty that Ritchie would go so far as to say that he was trying to kill the other student. What he saw through those cameras could be described as nothing but pure animosity.

It was a little daunting. What reason could Bakugou have to hate someone so much? Enough that he wouldn't hold back in the slightest with his frightening quirk.

The two were yelling something at each other, something heated. But due to the explosions constantly pounding out, the microphones scattered around the building were rendered inert. Nobody could hear them.

Then Bakugou activated his bracer. And all hell broke loose.

The cameras could not adequately capture what happened next, but with how all the quaking no one was quite interested in watching the match anymore. But now that the cameras were clear once more, Ritchie shakily glanced at the top-rightmost screens.

Iida lay trapped underneath rubble, Midoriya was prostrate on the ground heavily burned and with a severely twisted arm, Bakugou stood ramrod straight in horror. And Ochako was clutching onto a floating bomb like her life depended on it.

Silence filtered through the crowd. Ritchie couldn't believe his eyes.

With trembling hands, All Might raised up his tiny microphone.

"...THE HERO TEAM WINS!"

Even with the villain team uninjured, and the heroes both nearly incapacitated, the objective had been achieved. Victory sat firmly in the hands of the heroes.

All Might was up there in an instant, along with everyone else. They clambered out of the room, and watched as the four students were retrieved.

Ochako was a little shaky and looked ill, but was otherwise fine. Iida looked especially glum, while All Might saw fit to speak with Bakugou for a moment; about what, he couldn't quite hear. But the boy looked absolutely mortified at the result of the match, and he just knew that if he approached now he wouldn't get away without a few burns.

What really caught his attention was Midoriya. The boy looked awful. All singed and injured like that, as if he had been dragged straight through a warzone. A couple conveyor-bots loaded him onto a stretcher, their directive ensuring that he would be taken directly to the nurses office.

Hopefully he would make a full recovery, but Ritchie still worried nonetheless.

Toward the end, Bakugou had begun to brutalize the smaller teen with his quirk. No punches were pulled. It was simply his overwhelming might versus Izuku. Many times Ritchie had to stop himself from stepping into the middle of the fight in his defense. Even if he doubted he could actually stand a chance against Bakugou.

He didn't quite know what to think of that boy now. He still greatly respected his strength and confidence, but he wouldn't lie and say that his image of the rude teen hadn't soured slightly. This kind of brutality was unlike anything he had ever seen, and it left him more than a little perturbed.

"Now! Let us return to the monitor room! The next match must begin!"

Shooting a last glance toward the fading conveyor bots, Ritchie joined the group as they descend back beneath the ground.

* * *

In the end, the MVP for the round was Iida Tenya. His analytical mind and ability to plan giving him the edge over the other participants. If it hadn't been for Bakugou's brashness the villain team likely would have won.

That was a very short summary of why he was the MVP. Ritchie Blackmore looked at Momo Yaoyorozu in amazement. There were many things that he had completely missed in that match, small nuances that showed a lot of critical thinking and tactics. The fact that she had picked up on them all amazed him.

"Y-yes! That is… thoroughly correct!" All Might gave an unsteady thumbs up, "Nice catch…"

Yaoyorozu placed her hands on her hips, " Studies must always begin with what is familiar. If we don't cheer each other on then ultimately we will never become top heroes!"

Nodding in satisfaction of that statement, All Might addressed the class as a whole. "Both teams did right and wrong things. It is important that both they and _you_ learn from them! Improvement can only be made from mistakes! So take that to heart!"

"Anyway! The next match must begin, so let's get this underway!" All Might brought them all back to the screens which hadn't been wrecked in the aftermath of the match, "Since we… ah, _lost_ the main office building, the next matches will be held in one of the other buildings!"

"That's a relief." Ritchie sighed, "That place looked like it was gonna come down at any moment…"

Ejiro Kirishima nodded in agreement, "Seriously. Those guys really went at it. I'm gonna have to give it my all so I don't get shown up!"

"That's the spirit! Let's decide the next teams!"

The roulette on the screen whirred again, all eyes glued to it in rapt attention.

With a bright flash, the screens settled. Lightning split the screen again, and flames danced on it as a backdrop.

**HERO TEAM **_**F**_ _**VS**_ **VILLAIN TEAM **_**C**_

On the left side, Masahiro Ojiro clenched a fist with a passive expression, his furred gi costume on full display along with a glimpse of his thick tail. Beside him, Fumikage Tokoyami stood broodingly, his body wrapped up in his black cloak while his bird-shaped face narrowed its eyes toward the other side of the screen. Beside Tokoyami, his **Dark Shadow** menaced threateningly.

On the opposite side, Ritchie Blackmore stood with a small frown in his costume, his hand scratching at his hair as he met the eyes of his opponents. Yuga Aoyama stood beside him, sparkles flying off while he spread out his arms in a flamboyant gesture; a laser beam rocketing out of his navel.

Immediately, Ritchie's heart began to beat quickly. Far faster than he was prepared for. It had just dawned on him that he was about to get into a fight, for the first time in his life. It would be the first actual combat scenario he had ever taken part in, and he was left more than a little anxiety filled when he saw his awkward face on that screen.

Of course, he had fought those robots during initiation, but that was a bit of a different beast. With his quirk, handling unthinking and unfeeling machines was a cinch. People weren't quite so simple.

Midoriya and Bakugou made it look so easy, but this was a completely new frontier to him!

He had hoped that at least one other team would go up before him, so he could get a better idea of how these fights would go. How brutal he needed to be, what to at least expect.

Unfortunately, it seemed that his match would happen right on the heels of something as incredible as Midoriya and Bakugou's match. He only prayed that Katsuki was the exception, and not the rule.

Even worse…

"V-Villain team, huh?"

Aoyama nodded sagely beside him, "It seems so. What a shame, I was rather excited to show my mettle as a hero. But I suppose I can make do as a flashy villain."

"That's not exactly what I'm worried about…" Ritchie muttered. As a hero, victory would have been almost assured for him. But now, as a villain, things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. Maybe it was a little naive to hope things would go his way like that.

"Let us not dally, Blackmore-chan! We shall put on a show that will dazzle our audience!"

With a triumphant cry, Aoyama took to the stairs, while Ritchie trailed glumly behind him. The students who remained in the room chuckled at their antics before turning to the screens, watching the new office building intently.

* * *

With a grunt, Ritchie set the bomb down with a dull, echoing, metallic _thunk. _It wasn't heavy, but it was an awkward bastard, and Aoyama seemed more interested in directing him up the stairs rather than sharing the weight. Not that he complained, Ritchie was used to carrying heavy things- and Yuga didn't look like he could lift a dumbell.

Their chosen position was the highest floor in the building. The room was filled with columns, the walls and floors all a drab grey. Trash littered the floor, discarded waste and bottles making it look all the more like an abandoned building.

Two of the walls had large windows fixed into the frame, allowing light to pour into the room through the dusty reflection. One window pointed out toward the school, allowing another nice image that Ritchie filed away into his mind.

Stepping cautiously toward the window pointing away from the school, Ritchie grasped the lip of the frame and grunted. With a whine, the window slid upward, gunk and grime breaking away as the long unused window finally opened up. Fresh air poured in, and Ritchie stuck his head through the new opening and looked down.

Immediately he backed away, "Ugh… Okay, not a fan of heights. Noted."

"Afraid of heights?" Aoyama called from the other side of the room, his eyes glancing away from the bomb and over to him.

"I'd just prefer to have my feet on solid ground, is all."

"**The 5 minutes will start now! Make good use of them, teams!"**

Ritchie looked upward at the call of All Might, some hidden intercom blasting his voice throughout the building. There was no more time to sight-see.

If he wanted even a chance to win this match, then he needed to start planning now. Strong quirk or not, the hero team was still undoubtedly more skilled than him and probably Aoyama too. So he would have to level the playing field someway.

"Okay. We have a little time, Aoyama-san. We need to come up with a plan."

"Fire away, leader. What sort of scheme are you thinking of?" Aoyama stepped up to him, his smile as vibrant as always.

Ritchie blanched, "L-Leader?! What do you mean?! I can't… I'm not…!"

Aoyama placed a couple fingers against his temple and shook his head in mock shame, "Ahh, I'm afraid that I am more of a man of action, my friend. Planning and tactics are not my forte! I will leave this part to you!"

"Seriously… You can't think of anything?"

"I trust you, Blackmore-chan. Whatever you come up with will surely work!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence…." Ritchie muttered. It seemed that it was solely up to him to come up with a plan here. Amongst all the students, he was the least-suited to this particular job. He wasn't nearly clever or smart enough to set a trap for the heroes! If he were a real villain he would just be a grunt!

"Fine. Look around here, then. See if you can find anything useful." Aoyama snapped a salute and took to the other side of the room. If nothing else, the flashy boy didn't seem at all perturbed by the upcoming challenge.

Sighing, Ritchie pivoted and set about investigating his side. If push came to shove, the two could at least hold their own here as some sort of last stand. But he didn't like their odds.

"Aoyama." He called out to his friend while he upturned a trash can and grimaced at the contents, "The heroes… Do you know what their quirks are?"

"Hmmm…." Aoyama placed a finger against his chin as he thought, "Well… Ojiro-san has that tail, I'd wager it would be rather dangerous should he swing it at you. But Tokoyami… I don't know the extent of his, I'm afraid."

That was what he was afraid of. Knowing their quirks would have made this all so much easier. Knowing was half the battle, and nothing swung a battle in your favor like information. Knowing their weaknesses and how to abuse them, knowing their strengths and how to avoid them, that was the key to fighting someone who has a quirk. Even a quirkless person could defeat someone with a quirk if they knew exactly what their ability did.

At least, that's what his father taught him.

The only silver lining in this cloud was that his own quirk was still a secret. They might have their suspicions, but there was no way they knew exactly how it functioned. He could work with that.

Feeling an epiphany come on, Ritchie rummaged through the trash from the can. Whoever was in this building last had left a whole lot of tissues, colorful glass soda bottles, and mexican take out boxes. Ritchie sighed as he continued to part the trash. If the other students were watching right now, then they were getting a good look at him sifting through garbage like a raccoon. Wonderful.

The opinion of his classmates notwithstanding, Ritchie felt he was getting a better idea of changes to his costume than a plan. Mainly the addition of gloves. Something died inside him when a tiny roach crawled over his hand in fright from his destruction of it's home.

Anyway. What he needed was some sort of trap. A way to level the playing field while the hero team remained unaware. Catching them off guard, or setting up something to keep them away from the bomb would be the key to victory. But that was easier said than done, there was nothing in this room but trash!

Lightning struck him. He widened his eyes as his mind raced. That… That could work!

Aoyama approached him while Ritchie stared at the trash. "I searched the room, but there was very little to see." While saying such he shook his head in remorse, though still smiled with sparkly vigor, "But! I did find something interesting. A leather wallet. Its empty, but it has words on it! Lets see…" He held up the wallet and squinted at it, "_Bad Mother-"_

Ritchie cut him off, "I think I've got a plan."

Aoyama blinked before pocketing the wallet and approaching his side excitedly, "Incredible! I never doubted you for a moment, Blackmore-chan! What did you have in mind?"

Ritchie Blackmore reached into his vest pocket and plucked out the small roll of yellow capture tape. It rolled lazily in his palm before coming to a rest. Despite its size, it was heavy in his hand.

"We have to be quick, we're running out of time." With a tug, he pulled a long length of tape out "I'm going to need your help for this, Aoyama."

* * *

"**5 Minutes is over! Let the trial begin! PLUS ULTRA to all of you!"**

Ritchie Blackmore crossed his arms while he waited. The room he had chosen was midway up the building, close to the first floor but also near enough to the top floor with the bomb. The entire floor was spacious, clear of any debris or corners; it was just a wide open space with a stairwell tucked into the corner and a massive set of windows spanning the far wall; facing away from the school.

The area was stark. Little to use as weapons or cover should things get hairy, but also wide enough to allow for a broad freedom of movement. Long stretches of lights strapped to the ceiling lit the room up, the halogen lengths making a near silent buzz.

Stuffy and drab. There was nothing to distract the American from the puffs of his breath and the slam of his heart.

"Here we go…"

This was a very carefully chosen position. Thanks to a blueprint located in the stairwell, Ritchie figured out that all floors were sequentially connected to each other by only one stairwell. Meaning that the hero team could only come up by the stairwell he was facing right now, and could only advance further up the building through the stairwell he was guarding.

Like this, he would surely meet Ojiro and Tokoyami here. His leg jittered as he pondered over the upcoming fight. He also did a final check over his plan and the choices he made. Specifically on his and Aoyama's placement.

"_The plan sounds good but… How can you be so sure they will come up the stairwell? What's to stop both of them from scaling the outside wall and going directly to the bomb?"_

_Past Ritchie scratched his head, "Well, I'm just going off of what I would do in their position. If I was on the hero team, sure, I could climb the wall and just get straight to the bomb. But I also know that you are on the villain team." _

_He pointed at Aoyama, "You have a long range laser quirk. I wouldn't be that confident about climbing the wall if I knew you could easily pick me off with your quirk. I wouldn't exactly be able to dodge while climbing."_

"_Ah! I hadn't even thought about it like that. They won't climb so long as I can shoot them off the wall. So I am a deterrent!"_

"_Exactly. They don't know we're disregarding the wall, but they won't risk it."_

It was sound logic, but putting logic to people was a trial in futility. It would be stupid to climb the wall, but knowing his luck they just might. Then his plan would fall apart in shambles. Aoyama, who was guarding the bomb alone, wouldn't last if he was ambushed.

Luckily, the sound of two sets of footsteps began to echo up from the stairwell. Without any insulation, the loud clattering echoed off the walls, heralding their arrival. As they no doubt realized, stealth here wouldn't work.

Ritchie let out the breath he was holding and steadied himself. His arms crossed over his chest as he put on his best serious scowl.

With a couple beats, the heads of Ojiro and Tokoyami appeared in the stairwell. The two walked side-by-side, their expressions serious as they stepped off the stairs. Immediately they noticed Ritchie standing in the middle of the room and went on guard, their eyes darting from him to the stairwell.

"Hey you two. Nice of you to make it." Ritchie called out to them, his own body tensing in anxiety and anticipation as they slowly stepped toward him.

"Hello, Blackmore-san. I see Aoyama-san isnt here. And neither is the bomb." Ojiro answered him, never taking his eyes off him.

Ritchie shook his head sadly, taking a page from Aoyama's book of acting, "I'm afraid not. The bomb is further up, on the top floor. Aoyama is guarding it."

Now Tokoyami stepped forward, his dark shroud shifting slightly as he glared at Ritchie with his predator eyes, "Useful information. Why tell us, though? Do you plan to take us down before we can even reach that floor?"

"No nothing like that. I'm not crazy enough to fight you both. I'll even let one of you go up there unimpeded, free to go the top floor. But one of you are staying here to fight me. _One on One."_

"Oh really?" Suddenly, the **Black Shadow** that rested within his cloak burst out in a surge of darkness; the avian creature parting its beak and glaring daggers at the American. It was black as coal and seemed to meld with the shadows themselves. "And what's to stop us from both taking you down here and saving ourselves the trouble?"

Ritchie flinched internally in fear, but maintained his confident mask. "You could do that, sure, but I'll warn you now; I'm not one to go down easily. I'm slippery, and resilient. You might be able to take me down, but I won't go down fast. You might even run out of time playing with me down here."

"Is that a risk you want to take?"

The two stared at him, searching his expression. Ritchie used every fiber in his being to hold his confidence and bravado. Maybe he could last a little longer than a normal person against these two, but it would not be easy. If they both did stay, he would only be able to buy Aoyama maybe a minute or two.

When a beat passed, Ojiro looked over to Tokoyami. "Go, Tokoyami-san." The bird-teen sent him a quizzical look, to which he nodded in return, "He's right. We don't have any time to waste. Go get the bomb, I'll take care of this and back you up when I can."

Glancing between the hero and temporary villain one more time, Tokoyami advanced toward the opposite stairwell. Even still, his eyes never left Ritchie's, as if he were expecting a sneak attack at any moment. Ritchie merely stared back at him and watched as he disappeared up the stairs, his footsteps echoing away.

"I've been looking forward to this, you know." Ojiro began conversationally, "Ever since I realized that it was you who scored at the top in the entrance exam I've been looking for a chance to test myself against you."

"Ah… You know about that…?" Ritchie sounded a little embarrassed, not having realized that anyone else knew about that.

"Of course."

"You knew about that and you still want to fight me? Very brave of you, Ojiro-san."

The tailed teen merely took on a stance, his hands open and out while one leg stepped forward, "There was nothing brave about it. I have every intention of capturing you here and assisting Tokoyami."

"Yes, you probably will... But can you do it in ten minutes? Let's find out." Ritchie slipped into his own stance, a very shoddy recreation of a southpaw boxing stance. There was no technique in it, but his posture was sturdy and his expression was hard. The light above seemed to get brighter as the two glared at each other, washing the room in light.

Ritchie made no move to initiate the fight, so Ojiro took it upon himself. Flexing his legs, the hero-in-training launched himself at the American with surprising speed. Widening his eyes in shock, Ritchie ducked backward, avoiding the sweeping roundhouse.

Masahiro continued, advancing on him with two quick jabs. Ritchie sidestepped one, and managed to push the other aside with a slap of his hand on Ojiro's wrist. As soon as his fist was pushed aside, the disciplined teen thrust his elbow forward with intensity.

Blackmore grunted as he caught the elbow in the palm of his hand, stopping it mere moments before it could strike his solar plexus. Ojiro frowned and pressed in harder, the two battling for dominance. Ritchie took his chance and made to strike his opponent with his other hand, but Ojiro saw through it easily, threw off his hand, and _spun._

He widened his eyes. It was only through a combination of sheer instinct and intuition that he hastily threw himself backward and bent away from his enemy. It was just in time too; the moment Ojiro spun, his tail came barreling around, swinging harmlessly just where his face once occupied.

Wind rushed past his skin as Ritchie danced away. The attack passing so close to his face he could almost _feel_ it. The speed and force behind the missed blow shocked him to his very core.

"_So much force! If that caught me I could have been knocked unconscious for sure!"_

Ojiro swung back around, taking his stance again as he met Ritchie's worried frown. He now realized that the teens stance put emphasis on his core, meaning that it was tailored solely toward including his tail in his martial arts.

"_That thing can hit harder than any normal attack. I can't let him catch me with it."_

Just as he thought that, he was forced to roll desperately away as Ojiro performed a flip and brought his tail crashing loudly down where he was standing; cracking the ground. Ritchie grunted as he staggered to a knee out of his sloppy roll, now firmly on the back foot in the face of his opponents unrelenting offense. He looked up and gaped in shock as Ojiro came at his still kneeling form with a push kick aimed directly for his face.

He did the first thing that came to mind. He fell backward. Ritchie's back hit the dirty ground and the kick sailed harmlessly over head, Ojiro cursing as he was left overextended. Not wasting any time, Ritchie kicked out with his own foot and struck the only one Ojiro was still standing on; knocking him straight to the ground.

There was no follow-up. Ritchie quickly took to his feet and stepped back for some breathing room. Ojiro winced as he slowly stood, ignoring the bruise on his leg. Taking his chance, Ritchie circled around his opponent slowly; making sure to get the window in his vision.

Ojiro took to his feet, and slipped into his stance again. Ritchie did too, but couldn't hide his huffs of exertion. Every time he clashed with Ojiro, he was at the very real risk of losing. One wrong move and he would be struck with the full force of his tail, and that wasn't exactly something he could recover quickly from.

His nerves were on fire. His mind working overdrive to react to Ojiro's practiced martial arts, while also trying to get in his own attacks edgewise.

This time the two dashed at each other; Ritchie hoping to keep the battle equal and not at all wanting to be put on the defensive again.

A series of blows ensued. Ojiro striking out with a flurry of jabs that Ritchie was hard pressed to dodge or block. Each one seemed faster than the last, and pummeled his defense relentlessly.

When able to, Ritchie struck out with his own merciless haymakers and hooks. The heavy blows pounding against Ojiro's blocks and causing him to grit his teeth. But they were unskilled, and Ritchie wasn't good enough at quick thinking to get many in edgewise under the hail of blows Ojiro delivered.

One slipped by, and caught him directly in the chin- pulling a grunt of pain from the American as he stepped unsteadily back.

Ojiro jabbed again, and Ritchie fought through the pain to try and grab it out of the air. Only to snatch nothing as Ojiro suddenly pulled his fist away. Ritchie gasped in shock as the tailed-teen stepped forward hard and grabbed him roughly by the left lapel of his vest and by the bicep of his right arm.

He pulled him close, and Ritchie yelled out as Ojiro stuck his hip into the American's stomach and twisted hard; his hands forcibly tugging Ritchie up and over his hip alongside a powerful torque of his body. With flawless skill and strength, Ojiro threw Ritchie head and over heels into the ground.

"Dyah!"

"Gah!" He cried out in pain the moment his back struck the ground with a resounding _wham_. His face twisting up in agony as his spine groaned from the force.

"_That…! That was judo! I thought I recognized his stance, It's judo!"_

Still reeling from the pain of the hip throw, Ojiro capitalized on the chance and spun once more. His tail hurreled upward before coming crashing down straight for him.

Gritting his teeth at the approaching appendage, Ritchie acted quickly. Immediately he threw his feet upward, his body bending as he braced for the incoming blow.

The air blew away as the tail landed; dust scattering as he brought down the muscular tail with all the force he could muster.

It landed, but not in the way he expected. Just before it could strike, Ritchie brought his legs upward and used the soles of his shoes as some sort of barrier. The tail landed heavily on his feet, the American grunting as he pushed back against the powerful blow from his uncomfortable position.

It wasn't a perfect block, and his body protested greatly from the jarring pain he just submitted it to. But it was far preferable to taking the blow head on.

"Get...Offa me!" With a final shove, Ritchie sent the appendage away, opening up enough room for him to scramble to his feet. Ojiro made for another swing of his tail, and Ritchie just barely dodged backward; growling at his opponents insistence to use that damnable tail.

Pulling back, Ritchie performed a heavy roundhouse kick, and Aoyama spun again. Leg and tail met in a loud clashing sound, the two baring their teeth as they heatedly pushed back against eachother.

* * *

"Undying…" The lens in his costume began to glow a burning hot white. Energy built up under the glass, pure heat and light coalescing with a humming thrum. Embers of light arced off, the now blinding light beginning to pulse and vortex in on itself like a collapsing star. It rocked and rolled for a moment before finally beginning to find purchase on itself, a veritable vacuum attracting all the light and forcing it into a tight, volatile ball of radiance.

"Nova blast!"

At once, all the built up energy converged into a blistering spear of superheated light. The beam coalesced and burst from its glass prison faster than a speeding bullet; a pulse of rolling energy heralding its release. The air was energized, a spiraling mist of light particles flying away from the beam in a marvelous display of beauty and power as it ripped through the air.

Tokoyami desperately threw himself to the ground, his cloak scuffing along the ground as he dropped as low as he possibly could. **Dark Shadow**, his ever trustworthy partner, screeched in pain as the laser tore past it; just barely nicking it. Even though it had missed, the heat still had Tokoyami's plume standing on end; the brush with danger pushing his heart into overdrive.

The beam continued on, rocketing through the room and straight toward the wall. Like a knife through butter, it cut through the plaster, continued on to the next room where it _ricocheted _continuously in a maddening dance of light and destruction. The hole left behind in its wake sizzled and popped, the wall melting slightly from its brief contact with energy made manifest.

**Dark Shadow** mewled in pain and discomfort as it shrunk in upon itself slightly, its intimidating form becoming less so. Such close contact with such a bright source of light did not sit well with the quirk construct. Every time those blasts of light illuminated the room, Tokoyami felt his shadow's strength drop heavily for a few moments.

Slowly, cautiously, Tokoyami picked himself up. His narrow eyes stared at his opponent, a mixture of annoyance and contemplation gracing him.

Yuga Aoyama met his stare with his soft smile, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. His body settled into a pose as the glass fixed over his navel began to cool down- the discharged beam having pushed his costume towards its upper limit. Aoyama was sweating heavily, and his breathing was a little labored, but he didn't let himself falter at all.

"I dont think your friend likes my quirk so much." Aoyama chuckled, glancing at the peeved shadow creature. The thing had not stopped glaring daggers at him since the duo climbed up those stairs.

"Light is the natural enemy of darkness. And so too is it my enemy." Tokoyami's tone was grave, an edge of brooding forbearance lining his words as he brought himself up taller, "But all light will be snuffed out by my **Dark Shadow **sooner or later."

Aoyama waved a finger, "Not so, my feathered-friend. A star will always shine, even when it is surrounded by the darkness of space."

The bird teen may have raised a brow, but it was difficult to tell with his strange appearance, "All stars will eventually collapse. Darkness is eternal and patient, **Dark Shadow **is as well."

"And when it does it will burst into the most marvelous light show in the universe, and wipe away all darkness. A supernova of beauty!"

"Foolish…" Tokoyami shook his head mirthlessly, "When a star collapses it may shine briefly, but in the end it will become a black hole. A vortex where no light can escape."

"And all the surrounding stars will shine all the brighter for it!"

…

Yaoyorozu slapped a hand onto her face. It was hard to focus on the two different matches taking place on two different screens, both of them high tension and demanding the attention of the small audience. She had made the mistake of looking at the camera for the top floor at this exact moment.

Kirishima scratched at his scalp with an incredulous expression, "Man… What are those two even talking about?"

Uraraka smiled weakly, just as confused by the still ongoing exchange, "I think… They're bragging?"

"Haha!" All Might guffawed loudly, quite amused by the display, "This kind of dialogue really takes me back to the good old days!"

…

"Now… What will you do? My quirk is the natural enemy of yours, so this match is in my favor. Surrender gracefully, Tokoyami-san!"

The birdman evaluated the situation. Aoyama stood between him and the bomb, and he himself was pushed against the far wall that he had come up from. On the exact opposite side of the room was the bomb; almost at an impossible distance to reach with Aoyama lording over the room like he was. If he wanted to get to it, he would either have to incapacitate or distract Aoyama.

"Surrender? Heh… I'll do no such thing." Tokoyami's eyes flashed as he took a step forward, "You may have that laser on your side, but I can fight just fine without the assistance of my **Dark Shadow**. I bet that you are not the same."

Aoyama uncrossed his arms and took on a stance that was reminiscent of _Baji Quan, _"Is that so? I am more than just a pretty face, Tokoyami-san. Do not take me so lightly!"

The dark hero creased his brow and hesitantly stepped back at the stance. Baji Quan was a stance suited to heavily powerful strikes with explosive short-range strength. To see Aoyama slip into a stance like that confused him to no end. Aoyama did not look strong at all, so why would he choose that?

Aoyama must have been hiding something. If he was stronger than he looked then Tokoyami would have to be careful. Caution, he could not underestimate him.

On the other side, Yuga Aoyama smirked, but it was indistinguishable from his natural smile. The trick had worked just as he planned. There was no secret to the stance he had taken, it was simply something he had once seen a street-performer when he was younger; he found the Baji Quan martial art so intriguing and majestic that he practiced the form to be able to mimic it.

He had no actual skill or training in the martial art, but through trial he had found out something interesting. He could not use the martial art as it was meant to be used, but it actually suited his own style of fighting well. One that centered around his quirk.

"I don't have time to play your games any longer." With that bitten word, Tokoyami took off; his cloak billowing as he sprinted dangerously fast toward the temporary villain. The dust blew away as Tokoyami came to a sudden stop directly in front of Aoyama and lashed out with a kick that appeared from within his cloak.

Aoyama ducked quickly, his quick instincts pushing him beneath the quick kick easily. Tokoyami followed through, spun twice, and thrusted a fist out of his cloak directly for Aoyama face.

Hands brushed his fist, and the flashy teen forward rolled right past Tokoyami's side; his grace of movements making him look like a professional. Tokoyami growled and hopped backward without turning, following Aoyama and trying to catch him with another kick that was stuffed by Aoyama grabbing his leg clean out of the air.

The two were now face to face. Tokoyami grimaced in wide-eyed disbelief as a smiling Aoyama held his leg up in a tight grip. Like this, he was stuck standing on one leg and balancing precariously; making any attempts to either punch or kick impossible. It was a very advantageous position for the flashy teen, and completely opened him up to whatever he intended to do.

Or, at least it would. If it were anyone else caught by it.

Narrowing his brow, Tokoyami summoned his partner. Midnight claws latched onto his shoulder as his **Dark Shadow** revealed itself. The large avian billowed up from behind him, its face glaring down on their opponent. Its beak parted, preparing to crash down on him.

Which was why it shocked both of them deeply when Aoyama jumped forward.

Releasing his grip on the leg, Aoyama leaped directly into Tokoyami. He pulled his knees up to his chest, the soles of his greaves landing on Tokoyami's shoulders. Thanks to his flawless grace and flexibility, this was a simple task. With a grunt of effort, Aoyama powerful straightened his legs and pushed off; using Tokoyami's body as a springboard and _jumping _off him.

Time slowed down. Aoyama took to the air in a majestic backflip, his skin was slick with sweat and he was breathing hard, but he still let out a cheerful laugh. Tokoyami fell backwards slowly, the force of being used as a launch pad sending him falling back with a shocked expression that was perfectly mimicked by his **Dark Shadow. **

Ending his mid air backflip, Aoyama framed his hands around the glass focus positioned over his navel. A bright light burst within the chamber, his navel gathering up an intense pure white light that set the air shimmering with waves of heat. The light built up for a moment before disappearing.

"Art of Seduction!"

Then it flashed with a bright pulse and rocketed from the glass. With pinpoint precision, the bolt of intense light struck Tokoyami's **Dark Shadow** directly. It ripped straight through it and sent the shadow collapsing into itself with a shriek of agony.

Rebounding from the use of his quirk, Aoyama flipped one more time before landing. Tokoyami crashed to the ground at the same time with a cry of pain. His shadow partner immediately shrunk into his cloak, the super-bright attack wounding it fiercely.

Slowly standing up, Aoyama took a moment to praise himself. He had never actually done something like that before, and was glad to know his intuition had not failed him. Mixing his quirk with his acrobatic skills was a recipe for success, it seemed. At this rate, Ritchie's plan wouldn't even have to be put into action!

Stepping over toward the downed hero, Yuga looked him over. He wasn't actually at all injured, but the intense damage done to his **Dark Shadow **seemed to have an effect on him too. He was dazed, his head ringing as he fought for a sense of balance from his position flat on the ground on his stomach.

"Never underestimate a showman, mon ami. Greater people have fallen for less. Now… What should I do with you?" Aoyama tapped his cheek as he thought, "I dont have anymore capture tape so… Maybe I should use your cloak to tie you up? I obviously can't use my cape, so-"

"Don't get so high and mighty... I havent lost yet."

Aoyama blinked, "Come again? I do believe that your quirk has been knocked down by mine. None can withstand my twinkling beam, after all."

"Is that what you think?" Tokoyami looked up at him for a moment before his eyes suddenly flashed.

With a primal roar, black exploded from Tokoyami's back like a tidal wave. It pulsed, expanding widely upward before it took form. **Dark Shadow **coalesced, the familiar avian now much larger as it towered over the two teens.

"W-what?!" Aoyama flinched and staggered back, his smile quivering as he stared upward in abject disbelief, "I-I hit it with my quirk! It was a clean shot, there's no way it could recover so quickly!"

Tokoyami chuckled darkly from his position on the ground, his partner hovering over him like a gargoyle. "You should pay more attention to where you stand, Aoyama-san."

His brow twitched in confusion for a moment before he gasped in shock, his eye catching what was on the ground.

"_M-My shadow! Because of where I was standing, my shadow was cast over Tokoyami! I was so focused on my victory that I didn't even notice it!"_

It was true. Because of his position earlier, he had blocked the overhead lights from reaching Tokoyami's prone form. In the safety of his shadow, **Dark Shadow **was able to recover far faster than he normally would. To the point that he grew even larger than normal.

"Now…" Tokoyami slowly pulled himself up to a knee, his face now deadly serious, "Lets pay him back for earlier, **Dark Shadow!**"

Aoyama hurriedly stepped backward, his hands flying up to protect himself. But he was not the target. Instead it reared upward and brought its claws flashing high. The thick claws easily tore into the ceiling, a terrible screeching noise filling the air as it filed its blade-like razors straight through the plaster.

It found purchase, and the quirked creature immediately gripped down on the long section of lights fixed to the ceiling. Fighting through the pain of touching light, the creature yanked down with all its frightening strength.

Much of the ceiling gave way. The light fixture came crashing down with an explosive noise, many connecting wires also ripping free of the ceiling as well. Immediately, the light died out, every light source in the ceiling winking away; leaving only dead glass in its place.

The room plunged into darkness. All sources of artificial light disappearing. The only light came from the massive windows on either end of the room, and they did an admirable job of filling in the job. But even still, it was much darker than it had been before.

Slowly, Tokoyami stood, his neck cracking as he felt the light ebb away. His partner rejoiced, the darkness feeding its strength. The two found their second wind.

Aoyama slowly backed away toward the bomb, his eyes wide with horror. The situation had just taken an extreme turn for the worse. It had been going so well, but now he couldn't even pretend the match was in his favor anymore.

He flinched when the two birds turned their predatory gaze on him.

"Ah… Perhaps we can talk this out?"

* * *

"This isn't looking good…" Uraraka muttered, her eyes darting between the two screens. At the top rightmost screen, Aoyama backed away with a very meek grin from an advancing shadowy monster. A few screens downward, Ritchie Blackmore was left scrambling away from another set of powerful blows from Ojiro.

Iida stepped up to her side, his scrutinizing eyes locked on his fellow classmates. "Indeed. The sides seemed equal to begin with, but the match has certainly tipped in favor of the heroes now."

"Has it really only been four minutes…? It feels like it's been ages…" As she said that, she gave another glance between the screens, the action growing more heated with every moment. "Blackmore-san is really struggling…"

"It's because of his technique."

Both Uraraka and Iida looked over at Momo as she spoke, the analytical girl interjecting. "Blackmore-san seems rather crafty, and he's definitely quick on his feet, but Ojiro-san has the edge in pure martial skill."

Iida nodded sagely. "Yes, it seems that way. Ojiro-san definitely has some sort of martial art background, while Blackmore-san obviously has none. He can hit hard, and he's quick on his feet, but Ojiro-san is adapting to him."

"Exactly." Yaoyorozu gave him a sharp thumbs-up that seemed to clash with her prim and proper attitude, "Right now, Blackmore-san has gotten most of his hits from reacting to his opponents mistakes. It couldn't have worked forever. Now that it's a battle of technique, he's losing."

"Uuu… That's too bad then…" Ochako said, frowning as Ojiro performed a Tomoe Nage on Ritchie, sending the American crashing hard into the ground.

"Hmm. I take it you're hoping the Villain Team will win?"

She blinked at that, "Oh! Well, I guess so… Ritchie and Aoyama seem nice. And Deku is friends with them, so that makes them okay in my book!"

Yaoyorozu smiled at her energy, "A good enough reason." But the smile soon grew more grave, "Though, I'm afraid they will need a miracle at this point. If Blackmore-san doesnt do something to turn the tables soon, he'll be done for."

* * *

With a powerful flourish, Ojiro crouched low and whirled on his feet. His tail slammed into the ground and dragged, kicking up a wave of dust that crashed directly into the American.

"Gah!" Ritchie cried out, his hands scrabbling at his eyes as the dust blinded him.

Ojiro instantly capitalized. The boy sprinted forward and bent low, bodily tackling the American directly in the stomach. Spittle flew from his mouth as Ojiro locked his arms around his waist and began to lift. Using his strength, Ojiro began to run forward, the American now locked in his grip and lifted a few inches off the ground.

Steps pounded out as Ojiro pushed him through the room, his grip tight enough to painfully constrict him. In desperation, he brought elbow after elbow down onto his opponents back to get him to drop him; but Ojiro didn't even flinch.

He did _not_ like being suspended without his feet on the ground like this. His legs kicked, and he struggled, but all his movement immediately died when they finally hit the back wall.

Ritchie slammed into it hard. The air immediately evacuated his lungs as he was brutally driven against the wall, his eyes blew wide as he gasped in agony. Ojiro backed away from the reeling American and _spun._

It was all Ritchie could do to cross his arms in front of his face. The tail slammed into his impromptu block like a battering ram. He was crushed in between the wall and the tail, his head rocketing into the hard plaster and sending stars shooting across his vision. His arms throbbed in agony, his block immediately crumbling when Ojiro pulled his tail away from him allowing him to bonelessly crumple.

"Ugh...Damn…!"

With a wheezing gasp, he fell onto a knee; his body reeling. It was like somebody had taken a sledgehammer to his head. The block had lessened it slightly, but not by near enough. He shook his head, trying to regain some semblance of balance in the wake of that attack.

Something flared up inside him. A primal facet of his mind reacting to being harried into a corner like this.

While he suffered, Ojiro saw fit to end this battle now. Once he pulled away, he spun one last time. His tail flung up into the air with force, and with another torquing spin he brought it bearing down. Dazed or not, the blow would strike the kneeling American and put him down for the remainder of the match.

_Wham!_

Which was why his mouth dropped open in abject shock when it struck open air. The ground cracked as the appendage hit nothing at all. Flakes of concrete and plaster flew, mingling with the growing miasma of dust in the air. But Ritchie was no longer kneeling beneath him.

The teen's mind raced, his eyes glancing everywhere. It wasn't as if Ritchie somehow managed to dodge in some way. No, it was like he simply vanished. One moment his tail was inches away from dealing a decisive blow, the next his target had disappeared into thin air.

He hadn't blinked. He hadn't looked away or imagined any of it. It was like the American wasn't there at all.

"Sorry about this, Aoyama. Looks like I've pushed this as far as I can..."

Ojiro went ramrod straight at the voice. Disbelief splayed across his face, his mind not quite comprehending what he heard. Slowly, he turned his head and looked behind him. There was no masking his complete shock now.

Ritchie Blackmore stood on the other side of the room, a knowing smirk on his face as he stared at Ojiro. Despite the circumstances mere moments ago, he stood tall and straight; the only signs of his distress being his labored breathing and sweat-slick brow.

That wasn't the confusing part. No, what truly stupefied him was _how _he got there. There were no footsteps, no blur of moment as Ritchie rushed to put distance between them, not even a twitch of muscle to signal his intent to dodge.

He was simply here one second. And now he was there.

"What's wrong, Ojiro? Surprised?"

Ritchie worked his jaw with his hand, grimacing in pain. Dropping his hand, the American spat; a mixture of spittle and blood splattering against the ground. "I'm tired of getting thrown around by you. Its obvious I wont last any longer, so I'm going to step up my game."

"How did you-!"

Ojiro cut himself off with a gasp of shock. Just as he spoke, Ritchie vanished once more. Simply as if he were erased from space itself in an instant.

A hand gripping his shoulder was the only warning he got. Ojiro tried to turn and lash out, but the feeling of knuckles rocketing against his cheek and snapping his head away stopped him short. Stars danced across his vision as the blow threw him backward, his cheek already bruising from the brutal punch.

Ojiro shook his head rapidly, not allowing himself to think about the pain right now. Ritchie approached quickly, his foot pulling back while he eyed his open stomach. Thinking quickly, Ojiro overlapped his hands downward; preparing to block the soccer kick before it could land.

But, just when Ritchie was about to throw the kick, he disappeared.

"What?!"

A brain-rattling elbow came flying into the side of his head, forcing Ojiro into a stagger with an agonized shout. He stumbled away, but was promptly stopped when he bumped into something. That something being a body, the American now standing in his way.

He swung out with haste, his arm flying to strike Ritchie down. But Ritchie just vanished again, the blow completely missing its mark. Ojiro was left overextended once again, his opponent no longer even visible.

A fully charged roundhouse kick met his ribs from behind for his troubles, sending Ojiro crashing into the wall.

Giving the heavily injured hero a moment of rest, Ritchie vanished again and appeared in the middle of the room; a good couple meters away from his opponent. He could have pressed his advantage, but he didn't want to take it too far. And he didn't want to let himself get confident; he may have the upper hand now, but if he got sloppy he would just end up wasting his edge in this battle.

Ojiro openly gasped as he staggered to his feet. The entire scuffle had only lasted seconds at most, but the ramifications of it were clear. Bruises dotted the teens face, he was struggling to breathe clearly, and his hand was pressed tightly against his wounded ribs. Nothing had been broken, Ritchie was mindful enough to temper his blows that much, but they were debilitating nonetheless.

Ritchie had no skill. He only knew the very basics of throwing a punch. But he knew how to throw around his weight. His blows were without technique, but carried brutish strength in spades. That made it difficult to block them easily, and even harder to take and still stay standing.

Ojiro took to his feet, wincing at the throb in his side. His brain was working overdrive. He had no clue what was happening, but whatever Ritchie's quirk did allowed him to attack from almost any angle. It basically made protecting himself an almost impossible task.

Even still, he took his stance once more. He steeled his expression and straightened his back. Whatever the case, he absolutely could not be cowed yet. The American may have landed a few lucky blows, but it would take a whole lot more than that to stop him.

Ritchie frowned as the blonde stood, and entered his stance again. But just as he prepared to renew his attack, a flash of color in his peripheral made his eyes shoot wide.

Ojiro stamped his foot and slid it across the dusty ground, "I… I wont lose yet! Come on, Blackmore!"

Ritchie bared his teeth and nodded hard. Without any warning, he disappeared from the spot once more. Ojiro immediately threw his guard up, searching for where his opponent was going to appear.

* * *

Aoyama threw himself into another roll, the ground splitting open as the shadow creature raked its claws across where he just stood. The other claw came around, punching straight into the ground in front of him.

Stepping away in haste, the twinkling villain built up and released a beam of energy from his navel as quickly as he could. Thanks to the size of the creature, it landed without trouble and forced it to stagger back to Tokoyami in pain. But it was not a fully charged shot, and had only managed to temporarily stun it.

The shadowy room was filled with another flash as the terrified Aoyama crossed his arms behind his head and unleashed a sustained laser from his navel. It struck Tokoyami's partner hard, and Aoyama made sure to sweep it through it.

It let out a bellowing roar and flinched away from the lower intensity light; the beam serving to only forestall its movement rather than actually hurt it. Buying Aoyama a precious couple seconds.

Aoyama counted off the seconds he could safely sustain the beam and turned his head. Only a couple yards behind him was the bomb he was tasked with defending. Ever since the lights had been destroyed, Aoyama was slowly but surely pushed backward toward the objective. He had put up a valiant fight with his bright laser, but Tokoyami was relentless and cunning with pushing him to the edge.

His stomach was already beginning to flex in pain, the non-stop use of his quirk pushing him to his limits. He needed a moment to rest, but he absolutely could not afford it. Even one moment of hesitation would be enough for Tokoyami to sweep past him and touch the bomb.

There was only one way out of this situation.

Tokoyami grimaced and held his ground as the beam continued to sink into **Dark Shadow**. His true partner held itself defensively in front of him, its new mass allowing it to tank the heat for now.

Suddenly, the beam swept away from him, going awry somewhere else in the room. Free from the assault, Tokoyami took his chance. Ordering his shadow to barrel forward, the two immediately advanced on their opponent.

Aoyama gave a squeak of discomfort as **Dark Shadow** used its massive hands to snatch him up, constricting his arms to his side. Like a large doll, its dwarfing hand raised him up into the air without trouble. He coughed, and struggled against the grip, but it was far too strong.

"Its over, Aoyama!"

Pulling its arm back then forward, the shadow creature threw the twinkling villain away. The teen went crashing, rolling across the ground hard as he slid to a stop at the wall in a heap. He moaned, and struggled to get up, but he was so slow that there was no way he could get up in time.

Tokoyami turned back to the bomb. With Aoyama out of the way, it was a completely straight shot.

Pulling his **Dark Shadow** beneath his cloak to increase his speed, Tokoyami took off sprinting. He dashed past the debris and wreckage from their struggle and when only feet separated him and his target, he leaped for it.

His fingers hovered inches over the silver chassis.

So solely fixated on the bomb, Tokoyami failed to notice the sudden appearance behind him. Open hands flashed forward, forcefully grabbing him by the collar of his cloak and stopping him in his place; all his momentum completely sapped.

"What?!" He gasped in shock as, with incredible strength, the grip yanked him back and off his feet. The bomb was left untouched, and Tokoyami was bodily thrown backward. The grip followed through and released him, tossing him with force over and into the floor. He landed hard, scuffing on the ground as he rolled a few times.

Fighting through his shock, Tokoyami tried to take to his feet, but the instant he tried a foot met his chest. It struck hard, short-stopping his breath and throwing him away. Tokoyami's back met the ground again, now a good meter or so away.

His chest flared with pain, and he found it hard to take breaths from his position on the ground. But he tried anyway, and sluggishly began to pull himself to his feet again. _What just happened?_

He cautiously looked upward, and his beak dropped in shock.

Towering in front of the bomb, the black-haired American glared down at him. Ritchie Blackmore had stopped him from reaching the bomb, and now stood between him and it.

"You…? How did you…" Tokoyami winced as he picked himself up, "No… You couldn't have beaten Ojiro."

Ritchie Blackmore tilted his head, a wry smile pulling at his cheeks, "That was a little too close for comfort, Tokoyami-san. I'm not going to let you touch this bomb, not as long as I can still stand on my own two feet. Did you forget this was a team battle?"

Tokoyami's mind raced. This had just gotten a lot more complicated. Had Ojiro really been defeated? If so, then that meant it was just him against the two villains. It was hard enough with just one, but now with two he wasn't so sure he could reach the bomb in time.

"Damn…" It was aggravating. He was so close to ending the match then and there, but Ritchie Blackmore simply appeared at the exact moment to stop him. Did he know? Was he somehow warned that he was about to touch the objective? Was it his quirk?

"Here I come!" Ritchie Blackmore crowed as he sprinted toward the downed hero. His fist pulled back as he neared.

Acting quickly, Tokoyami resummoned his **Dark Shadow**. The black beast burst from his cloak and positioned its claws in front of him like some sort of barrier. Quirk or no, Tokoyami still believed in his shadow. It could handle the newcomer one way or another.

But the attack never came. The shadow creature kept its claws positioned protectively, but no punch ever bounced off it. He blinked in confusion before glancing through the cracks in the claws. He saw nothing.

Ritchie Blackmore was gone.

"What the-" Whatever he wanted to say was promptly silenced when a supersonic laser beam struck his shadow hard. Arcs of light rockted off it as it drilled in, sending both Tokoyami and his shadow flying with a cry of shock and pain.

Aoyama, slowly stepping in front of the bomb, showed his now stronger smile. Steam wafted up from his navel as he wrung his arms and struck a pose.

"Keep your eyes on the prize, mon ami! Our dance is far from over!"

* * *

Ojiro frowned as he lessened his stance. As soon as Ritchie disappeared he prepared himself for the blow. It could have come from any direction, so he prepared himself to tank it or react and land his own strike. He may have a mysterious quirk on his side, but there was always a way to turn the tables in his favor.

Only, the attack never came. The villain disappeared, and did not appear again. No sound came from the room save for Ojiro's focused breathing. He stood alone, glancing around warily for him to appear- for him to launch his surprise attack.

A long couple seconds passed. Slowly the tension in himself ebbed, and so too did his stance. _What is going on?_ Was Ritchie playing him? Trying to get him to drop his guard so he could get his sneak attack in.

A few short moments passed, then he heard it. He took absolutely no time deciphering what the noise was, he simply pivoted on his foot and used tail for its intended purpose. It struck a wide cleaving arc, aiming directly for waist height.

It swung, and missed. Ritchie was indeed there, but, almost as if anticipating the move, he jumped straight over his tail. The appendage flailed underneath him as pulled his knees to his chest in midair, and shot them straight with cannon-like force.

The dropkick met Ojiro directly in his ribs. He spat in pain as the risky blow sent him crashing to the floor.

Ritchie hit the ground at the same time as Aoyama, and the two hurriedly tried to take to their feet. Though, Ojiro was far slower in doing so. That blow had left him mercilessly short of breath, Blackmore was proving to be a very difficult enemy.

"How…?" He growled as he finally steadied himself, "How do you keep doing that? What are you doing?!"

Ritchie coughed, despite what he had just done he was still wounded and exhausted from the long battle. Endurance was not one of his better attributes, and this constant fighting was taking its toll. "You're not the only one who has an ace in the hole. This is mine."

Ojiro clutched his chest tight and searched the American's face. His mind racing to figure out just what the hell happened. This quirk was so much more dangerous than he expected.

"Was that your quirk?" It had to be. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he had done. It _looked _like he was teleporting, which may have pointed to a teleportation quirk. But it didn't _feel _like it. "Teleportation? Is that it?"

The villain stared at the tailed-teen for a moment before he allowed a smile to curl his lips. His foot tapped the ground.

* * *

**Yesterday Afternoon...**

"Blackmore-san, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Ritchie paused from watching the magic trick Aoyama was showing him to look quizzically at Midoriya, his serious tone confusing him in the comfortable atmosphere of the empty classroom. "Huh? Uhh…"

Izuku hurried to explain himself, "It's just… This was something that's been on my mind since the tests. So I just wanted to ask you while I had the chance."

Ritchie waved off the explanation, smiling gently. "Well, I dont think its actually that big of a deal. I was just caught off guard. Fire away, Midoriya-san."

"What is your quirk?"

His smile immediately dropped. A frown creased his brow and his eyes narrowed. To begin with he was only half-listening to the green-haired teen, but now he had his full attention. "...Why do you want to know something like that?"

Izuku widened his eyes at the suspicion in Ritchie voice, and hastily waved his hands to assuage his concerns. Internally he was yelling at himself, fully believing he had just inadvertently insulted his new friend.

"Ah! It's just…! I've always been very interested in quirks! They're kind of my passion, and I uh, just love to hear about them! I-I-I don't have any ulterior motives!"

"I-Its just…" Midoriya continued, his stuttering coming back in full force, "After the quirk apprehension tests, I couldn't figure yours out! It w-was different from all the others!"

Aoyama came to Izuku's defense, nodding along with his words, "Midoriya-san is right. We all saw you use it for the 50 meter dash today, but I couldn't quite figure out what you did." Aoyama pondered back to what happened on the field just a few hours ago, "It was like you disappeared…"

Ritchie still didn't look quite convinced, and that shocked Midoriya. For all his life, people would literally fight for the opportunity to brag about their quirk. Growing up with Bakugou, that kind of vanity was a staple of his life. So why didn't Ritchie share that?

He made one last attempt to convince the black-haired teen. Quickly pulling up his bag, Midoriya dug into the contents and pulled out something that he had stuffed into the far back of it. The bag was absolutely stuffed full of supplies, and it was a wonder he found anything when he scounged through it. "U-um here! Just so you know I'm not lying. I really am just curious!"

Ritchie took the journal and raised a brow at its title, "Hero analysis for the future?" the thing was well worn, and had a comfortable feel in its binding.

Carefully he flipped open a page in the middle. For a moment, he couldn't make sense of what he was reading, a veritable bombardment of kanji surprising him. "_Extending limbs made of plant matter… Seems to only work with 'wood'… Maybe leaves as well?..."_ Then it clicked. With a surprisingly well drawn picture of Kamui woods taking up most of a page, Ritchie realized that this book was detailing in depth about the hero's quirk.

Everything from what it did, how often it was used, drawbacks of its use, strengths and weaknesses. There were even sets of lines describing possible uses or improvements to the quirk. The weaknesses were there, but there were also small annotations describing counters or defenses against that weakness.

Flipping the page gave him another similar break down of the quirk for Mt. Lady, the upcoming pro hero. Her size-enhancing quirk taking up a page and a half spread. Another set of pages, and he was looking at Power Loader and his own birth-given ability.

"Wow…" That was all he could say. This amount of diligence was just so shocking that he didn't quite know how to react. Midoriya did strike him as studious, but he wasn't aware just how deep that prediction would go.

"I-its embarrassing… S-So please don't tell anyone about it. Especially Bakugou!"

Aoyama peered over his shoulder and whistled as he saw the contents of the notebook, his indigo eyes sparkling, "Oh my… I don't know how you could be embarrassed by this, Midoriya-san." Yuga marveled as Ritchie flipped to a page about Gang Orca, "Oh! Is there a page about me?!"

Midoriya gaped at Aoyama's compliment, completely unused to being praised for his frankly creepy hobby, but hurried to answer him, "Ah, um, no. Not yet. But if you'd like I could make one. Your quirk is very interesting too, Aoyama-san! I-If you want, that is!"

"Wonderful! Do make sure to get my good side, though. It simply won't do to have an unflattering depiction. It must be as realistic as possible, after all."

"G-good side?"

Ritchie chuckled as he finally shut the hero notebook, unable to hide his grin. "Sorry, for doubting you, Midoriya. I know you didn't have any ulterior motives, it's just…" He scratched at his hair, smiling in embarrassment, "Back home, sharing your quirk is a bit uncommon. Nobody like to do it if they don't have to, especially with people they dont trust."

"How strange… It sounds like the exact opposite of here. I couldn't even imagine hiding my beautiful quirk."

He nodded, "Yeah, it might be strange, but that's how I grew up."

Ritchie stopped and glanced around the room, as if making sure that it was truly still empty. As it was before, these three were the only souls present.

"Well… Either way, I do trust you two. So I guess I have no problem telling you. I'm going to have to be more forthcoming with my quirk for everyone else too, so I might as well start with you."

"Seriously?!" Moving quickly, Midoriya picked his notebook back up and flipped to a couple blank pages. "Thank you, Blackmore-san!"

"Oh… You're going to write it down?" He looked even more embarrassed now under Midoriya's quizzical gaze, "...Nevermind. Its fine."

"Just… Don't get your hopes up too much. Its a strong quirk, but it's nearly as flashy as Aoyama's." Aoyama preened at that, happily taking the compliment. It wasn't exactly his intention, but the blonde seemed happy, so whatever.

Ritchie Blackmore stepped away from the two and cupped his chin. His eyes closed as he began to think hard, well aware of his audience. He mumbled something uncertainly to himself, his foot tapping loudly. Thinking was not his strong suit at all.

"Ritchie-san? What are you doing?" Aoyama sweat dropped as the American lost himself in thought.

"Well… I've never really had to show off my quirk to anybody else before. So I'm thinking about how to best describe it."

Midoriya was already jotting down a couple notes, "...Um, how about starting with what we already know? We can guess that its a teleportation quirk, of some sort."

"Yeah, that's a good start." Ritchie nodded in thanks, "It's not teleportation."

"Huh?"

"My quirk is the ability to erase space." He began, "To put it bluntly, I'm able to erase _'distance'_"

"Erasing distance…?" Midoriya pondered on that. He understood to some degree, but couldn't exactly understand it from a logical or practical standpoint. What was it supposed to mean?

"Everything in the world has distance that separates it. Whether they be two chairs on opposite sides of this room, or countries on opposite sides of the world. My quirk allows me to completely ignore that distance."

As an example, Ritchie activated his quirk. Both students jumped in surprise as, without any noticeable input, Ritchie vanished and appeared all the way on the other side of the room.

It was an instantaneous change, and it they hadn't both been staring right at him they would have assumed he was over there the entire time.

"With my quirk, space and distance doesn't affect me. I can travel as far as I want in an instant, simply because there is no distance between me and where I want to go." Using it again, he appeared next to the startled teens again.

The two stared at him with wide eyes, blinking owlishly at him. It was something he was used to. Even for people who were privy to the specifics of his quirk, witnessing it directly was still a little daunting for them. The brain wasn't wired to understand sudden changes like that, and was often left mystified by the disregard his quirk had for universal law.

"Here, to put it in a way you can understand… How far away do you think South Africa is from here?"

"Huh?" The out of field question caught Midoriya way off guard, his mind still churning to understand what he had just seen. "That's… More than 10,000 kilometers. I think."

"Right. To you, it would take almost an entire day to move between those places in a plane. But to me, the plains of South Africa are just as close to me as this desk is." He gestured to the school desk just near his hip, "Every place in the world is _literally_ only a step away."

"Thats… Thats incredible!" Midoriya gasped in awe, the implications of what he was saying beginning to stew in his mind. "You can travel wherever you want instantaneously… I've never even heard of a quirk like that!"

Aoyama seemed to be just as shocked, but also came to a realization, "So when you say that it's not teleportation…"

Ritchie nodded in satisfaction, "That's right. It's not teleporting at all. I'm simply walking, but my body ignores space. Without anything between me and where I want to go, movement happens instantly."

"Amazing…" Midoriya began to furiously write in his notebook, scrawling out notes like his life depended on it. Ritchie was left just a little embarrassed at the whole situation; not at all used to describing himself like this to anyone. It felt far too much like he was bragging, and he hated to do that.

"Moving distance... At first glance most would confuse it for a speed based quirk, but I think its even faster than Speed Goggles! How does it work though? Maybe it removes all his mass temporarily so he can travel at the speed of light? But then where does all that momentum go? And walls… would there be risk of getting stuck in a wall if you misjudge distance? No… That wouldn't make sense. Ah! But it would be perfect for a hero! If All Might could appear instantly wherever a crime was happening then he could…"

"So…" Aoyama began, Izuku lost in own little world, "There is no limit to how far you can go?"

"No. As long as I know vaguely where I want to go, I can go there."

"Wow~ that sounds like a luxury. You truly are lucky, Ritchie-san. It may not have flashiness, but there is little doubt that it is stronger than mine."

The American instantly shook his head, "No. Aoyama-san, it might be useful but a quirk is only as good as its user. I'm not all that strong or smart, so it's really just a faster way to travel.:

Aoyama frowned, a very rare sight for him, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. "Hm… You don't give yourself enough credit, Ritchie-san."

Midoriya piped up now, not catching the tail-end of their conversation, "What about weaknesses? It sounds like a great quirk, but there has to be some catch to it."

"Yes, there are a few. But really, they're more like drawbacks." He gestured down to his feet, where his black-tinged skin remained hidden beneath his boots, "I don't know exactly how my quirk works, but it relies on my feet. If my feet aren't on solid ground, then it wont activate."

Midoriya turned back to his notebook again, Ritchie was thankful for that. There were other drawbacks to his quirk, but he wasn't at all comfortable enough to talk about them.

"It may not be flashy, but your quirk sounds very useful Blackmore-san. I think it's perfect for hero work." Midoriya said as he continued to scrawl away, "I can't wait to see the reaction of the rest of the class when you use it."

That got a smirk out of him. "Me neither."

* * *

Ritchie clenched a fist in front of himself, his eyes igniting with fire. The entire office building seemed to fall silent for a moment, hanging on his every word. The air was electrified, and he felt a churning energy in his gut that he had never felt before. "The ability to erase the distance between me and any place in the world… That is my quirk!"

"That is **Blackfoot!**"

Ojiro stared at him dumbfound. The truth behind his power worrying him greatly. Being able to appear whenever and wherever he wanted basically allowed him to _always _make sneak attacks. What should have been a normal battle had turned into a trial that would force him to constantly be wary of an attack from literally any angle.

He gasped as Ritchie suddenly appeared in front of him, his leg swinging around in a roundhouse. Ojiro barely had any time to throw up an arm and block the kick, but even still the power behind it rattled his skeleton.

The two locked eyes. Ritchie's suddenly determined green piercing Ojiro's haggard black. Ritchie's leg pressed downward; the arm blocking him beginning to shiver under the strain. Normally, Ojiro would have been more than able to overpower the American, but the unfavorable position left him struggling.

"You really are impressive, Ojiro. But Aoyama is fighting as hard as he can up there, it wouldn't be right if I didn't give my all either." Ritchie bared his teeth and pressed down harder, "You might be more skilled than me, but I'm going to win this match!"

Ritchie dropped his leg and thrusted his hand forward, intending to grab Masahiro. Free of the weight, Ojiro recognized the danger and acted immediately. Roaring out, the disciplined teen dropped backward; his tail taking on the brunt of his body weight and flexing. Building up tension for a moment, his tail acted as a springboard and sent him flying away from his opponent.

But he was not running. Now that he knew Ritchie's quirk, he realized that putting distance between them and going on the defensive would be pointless. He would have to press him hard. He would need to go on the offensive!

Ojiro soared through the air before landing up on the wall, his feet and tail pressing against it for a moment before he pushed ferociously off it. Like a ball from a cannon, the hero rocketed off the wall in a blurry streak. Ritchie's expression soured, and just before the attack landed he vanished from the spot.

He crash landed like a meteor. The ground erupted into a spray of sharpened debris; billowing through the room and striking the ceiling roughly. Dust burst up, the newly formed crater further tarnishing the battleground.

As soon as the dust settled, Ojiro lifted himself into a handstand and forcibly spun on his hands. The practiced move sent his tail whirling around, forcing Blackmore to give up on his attempt to attack him again and also serving to blow away all the dust with the powerful cyclone generated by his tail.

While he spun, the tail hero ascertained exactly where the black-haired teen was and pushed out of his handstand. Ojiro took to the air again, spinning head over heels like a top. There was an audible whipping noise with every rotation he made, the sheer speed behind him akin to a buzzsaw. When he brushed the ceiling, he immediately rocketed downward toward his opponent and once again impacted with deadly force- Ritchie disappearing from the blast zone again. Only, this time when he landed, Ojiro bounced out of the hole in a somersault and spun into another high-speed missile directed straight toward where he went.

"_I knew it! As long as I keep the heat on him, he can't use his quirk to attack me!"_

It was a crude plan, but it was working. With the threat of a high velocity Masahiro missile, Ritchie was unable to launch a counter. The constant jumping around and spinning was exhausting, and already he was breathing heavily, but that was a small price to pay. It was exhausting, but it only needed to work once; if he caught Ritchie even once then it was over for him.

Or at least, it should have worked.

Ritchie frowned as he once again used **Blackfoot** to dodge a surely fatal strike. It was an impressive display of dexterity and strength, and it more than amazed Blackmore. But he expected it as well. It wasn't enough to overcome his quirk.

Ojiro hit the ground and bounced upward like a compressed ball. His body disappearing into a blurry wheel as he spun in midair at high speed. Without waiting a beat, Ritchie activated **Blackfoot**.

Time slowed as the American suddenly appeared in midair, just next to the rapidly spinning Ojiro. Reaching out with his outstretched fingers, Ritchie didn't even hesitate to drive his hand straight into the spinning ball of death.

The tail hero short stopped with wide eyes. Ritchie Blackmore seized the neck of his costume straight out of his spin, forcing him to a jarring stop. Now caught in his grip, Ojiro could do absolutely nothing as Ritchie fell; his arm swinging forward and sending him careening straight into the ground. Like a slam dunk in basketball, Ojiro hurtled into the ground with a cry.

Ritchie hit the ground and hurriedly waved off his numb hand, "Surrender, Masahiro! You can't win this fight!" If the time limit was longer, then maybe Ojiro would have been able to work around his quirk. But as it stood, with only a maximum of two minutes remaining, there was no way he could turn the tables quick enough. If it was him, he would have given up by now.

The other teen winced as he stood and brushed his lip, a cut there beginning to bleed, "I won't. Even if I cannot win, I still won't give up until I overcome you, or I fall. That's what it means to be a hero."

_That _had an effect. Ritchie grimaced, his eyes blinking open in surprise before he frowned sadly. As if disappointed in himself.

"Yeah… You're right."

The grimace disappeared and Ritchie now blinked in shock- his expression slackening. But it soon disappeared and he turned serious again, "Alright then. I've got a lot to learn from you, Ojiro-san! Show me what you got!" The words were accompanied by a toothy grin and an energetic yawp.

With that, **Blackfoot **activated. Ojiro took his stance, his tail hovering behind himself.

* * *

**Dark Shadow** picked up the piece of a debris, a large chunk of ceiling that had been fractured off in the destructive struggle. With the thick plaster in hand, the shadow creature brought it forward and effortlessly blocked the intense beam of light from Aoyama's navel.

Aoyama blinked at that, more than a little shocked at such a simple yet effective workaround to his quirk. "That is not fair at all…"

He held the seductive beam a little longer, trying to pierce the plaster at least somewhat, but the low energy beam could not do it. Soon, a familiar twisting in his gut forced him to end the beam- Tokoyami did not hesitate to act on that.

His quirk lunged forward, the beast bringing its massive claws to bear and bringing them crashing down on Aoyama. He was careful not to actually cut him, but Aoyama was still forcibly pressed against the ground; the palm of the creatures hand trapping him face down to the floor. He squirmed, but it felt like a car was weighing down on him; he couldn't break free.

"**Dark Shadow, **hold him down." The avian cawed in response, and Tokoyami ducked through the debris in pursuit of the bomb. The struggle had further ruined the room, and at some point it had been knocked over on its side; but it was still exactly where the villain team had left it. This match had gone on long enough.

Aoyama, beneath the shadowy hand, began to panic. If he didn't do something now, then Tokoyami would reach the bomb unimpeded! He had to get up and stop him! His partner was relying on him to do his part, it wouldn't end like this. But it was easier said than done, laying squashed flat against the ground beneath a giant bird made it almost impossible to do anything.

He had to try either way. Aoyama's frankly weak arms pressed against the ground, and he began to push. The bird pushed back, and he groaned as the weight nearly doubled. Even so, he continued to push, fighting tooth and nail for even an inch. It was like trying to move a mountain, his untrained body completely unsuited to it.

"Come on… Just… A little bit…"

He pushed with all his might, and with a groan he relieved himself from the ground by a couple inches. It was only for a moment, but it was enough. Aoyama angled himself, and a bright flash flared from his navel.

Tokoyami halted in his run as a small bolt of light went awry of him; glancing off a few feet away from him without even touching him. He looked back and watched as **Dark Shadow** pressed down again, pinning the boy back down where he didn't struggle anymore. Fumikage stared at him for a little longer just to make sure he wouldn't get up again. When he was assured, he took off for the bomb.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he believed he was moving too fast now, maybe he trusted his dark partner to stop it before it could happen, or maybe he simply forgot. Either way, Tokoyami sprinted toward the bomb with his hand stretched out; the goal, his imminent victory, oh so near.

Which was why he was completely unprepared.

Directly from his blindside, from seemingly nowhere, Ritchie Blackmore appeared. He sprinted in, his eyes flashing as he leaped toward Tokoyami.

The flying knee struck him directly in the side of his ribs, and sent Tokoyami straight into the ground. He made a short strangled noise, his hands flying to his side as he slid across the ground. While he slid, Blackmore appeared over him, grabbed his cloak and threw him careening along the floor even further away like a bowling ball.

**Dark Shadow** screeched, and leaped off of Aoyama to protect its master. The giant creature stretched upward before coming crashing down on Ritchie like a tidal wave.

Aoyama groaned and tried to pick himself up, his body throbbing like one big bruise. Strong hands took his shoulder and helped him get to a kneel. He looked up, and was ever grateful to see the wry grin of Ritchie Blackmore, the American making sure he was steady- his eyes alight with worry.

"Easy… That thing is a whole hell of a lot bigger than before. You must have had it rough." He murmured as he glanced backward, the shadow beast crashing down on where he stood just a second ago- and Tokoyami still trying to get his breathing in check.

"Yes. Tokoyami has certainly pushed me to my limits, it is frightening just how strong he is. I'm afraid both me and my quirk are running out of steam though…" Using his friends shoulder, Aoyama stood unsteadily. They were both utterly exhausted, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, but still didn't seem ready to give up. "I am unsure how much longer I can hold out here."

Ritchie shook his head, "You did just fine, Aoyama. You bought us a lot of time." Ritchie paused and looked over at the shadow creature as it realized its prey was gone and returned to the recovering Tokoyami. "Want me to stay here and lend a hand? If it's both of us, I think we can handle him."

"Have you beaten Ojiro-san?"

N-no… He's a lot stronger than I am, and he's been pushing me hard. He's still down there. I didn't really plan to beat him anyway."

Aoyama smiled and stepped away from Ritchie, standing on his own two feet. "Then, no. There is no reason to risk anything by leaving Ojiro-san be. We must stick to the plan if we want to win."

Ritchie didn't seem convinced, "Yeah but…"

"Please. Allow me do my part. I'll prove right now that you will always be able to rely on me, Blackmore-chan!"

He stared into Aoyama's indigo eyes, more than surprised at the conviction he was showing. Normally, the teenager was more than a little odd; like someone who only really cared for being the center of attention rather than actually acting. But right now, he really did look like someone he could wholeheartedly rely on.

"Alright then, he's all yours... Good luck." With that, Ritchie activated **Blackfoot** and disappeared.

"Again…" Tokoyami griped as he stood once more, his shadow looming irritatedly over his shoulder. "How does he keep doing that? Where is he hiding, and why wont he fight me directly- without these cheap tricks?"

"All's fair in love and war, _petit corbeau_!" Aoyama crossed his hands behind his head once more, the navel of his costume gleaming threateningly, "Allow me to teach you thoroughly!"

* * *

When Ritchie reappeared, he was face to face with a thoroughly stupefied Ojiro- the judo practitioner obviously not expecting him to appear directly in front of him. Taking his chance, Ritchie lunged forward and bashed his head straight into the other teens face.

"Gah!" Ojiro staggered back, clutching the red spot at the center of his face as he blinked away stars, "Cheap shot!"

Ojiro struck out with a kick and was surprised when it actually landed directly in the Americans stomach. His surprise doubled when Ritchie tanked it, and gave him a hook in his stomach.

Belatedly, he realized that this sort of brutal blood sport was likely not what All Might had in mind for this trial. Instead of beating on each other they probably should have made use the capture tape to get the job done, not subjugate their opponent with pure force. Not to beat them into submission like a gladiator.

Well, if nothing else, it was realistic now.

Stepping back only for a moment, Ritchie lashed out with a roundhouse kick that Ojiro ducked. Unfortunately Ritchie kept spinning with the kick, his quirk suddenly transporting him right behind Ojiro's ducked form as his foot came back again. It struck center mass and floored him. Shaking the blow off, he rolled away and came to a crouch to observe his rival.

In these minutes, Ritchie's stance had begun to change. Where once it was some sort of pale boxing stance, now it was modified. It still held the same shape, but now there was a slight emphasis on his legs. Ritchie Blackmore had entered a kicking stance.

Though unpolished, the American's kicks seemed to be his strongest asset. They hit with nearly double the force of his punches, and his long legs gave them the reach to partially dominate the fight. That he was intending to use them exclusively spoke volumes of what this next clash would entail.

"One last time, Ojiro-san! Let's end this!"

Both tightened their stances. Ojiro now favoring his tail, and Ritchie putting emphasis on his left leg. Neither of them wanted this match to drag on any longer than it already had. A tense second passed- the two focusing so intently on each other that the room bled away. Their sense sharpened razor thin, every minute twitch of their opponent being caught by their adrenaline fueled minds.

As if reacting to a starting pistol, the two dashed forward. No tricks, no use of their quirks, they simply took off with their own roars to clash right in the center of the room. When feet separated them, Ojiro flipped forward- his tail crashing down like a guillotine, and Ritchie slid forward, hiked his knee up to his chest and, while still sliding, shot it forward with explosive force in a front kick. If either one landed, it would surely spell the end of the battle.

An attack met, a blow striking its target with ferocious force.

Ojiro's head snapped backwards. The boot struck him beneath the chin hard, throwing his head up as his eyes turned blank- falling unconscious.

As for Ritchie, the tail that had come hurtling down toward him would have surely incapacitated him as well. But, just moments before it could land, Ritchie used **Blackfoot** to make the barest erasure to space. That erasing had shifted him ever so slightly to the side, allowing the tail to brush barely past him and strike the ground harmlessly.

In their heated clash, Ritchie Blackmore was the only one who came out at the top.

Ojiro fell backwards, bonelessly hitting the ground. For his part, the moment he crashed he woke up. The blow only having temporarily rendered him senseless. He tried to push himself up, but his arms continued to slacken- he couldn't find the leverage to stand. That last blow had been too much- too precise, too powerful. His body refused to heed his commands anymore.

Against an untrained opponent who had never fought an actual battle before in his life, he had lost. The sheer divide that **Blackfoot** made between them was too large. With a quirk like that, even someone like Ritchie Blackmore could defeat such a powerful foe.

He tried one last time to push himself up, but eventually his arms gave out and he sank onto his back with a tired sigh.

"**And that's the ten minutes! This match is over, and the bomb is untouched! THE VILLAIN TEAM WIN!"**

Trembling, Ritchie collapsed onto his rear next to Ojiro. Aoyama had pulled through for that last minute, the bomb was secure and so too was their victory. Against all odds, they had won. He panted as his adrenaline faded, all his bruises now singing out with pain while he stewed in his building exhaustion.

He didn't bother standing up. He was so very tired that he knew he couldn't care to muster the will. All Might and the others would come retrieve them soon. For now, he just wanted to catch his breath.

"Heh… Guess I lost pretty handily, huh?" Ojiro coughed from the ground, looking just as exhausted as he did.

Ritchie just shook his head, sweat flying off with the action, "Only because I had my quirk. If it was a battle of skill I would have lost a lot sooner."

"I used my quirk too, you know... You're just stronger than me, that's all there is to it." Ojiro closed his eyes as he began to breathe gently, more relaxed and calm than Ritchie expected. Even though he had lost, it was obvious that it didn't bother him too much.

Ritchie clutched his numb arm and frowned as he thought on that. Was that really how it was? Even now, after having taken down Ojiro and even slowing down Tokoyami, putting himself above others just didn't sit right with him. It just seemed wrong to say that he was stronger than someone like Ojiro, who had studied martial arts, while he had never done anything noteworthy.

It felt wrong. Like lying to your mother. Or cheating on an important test.

"You fight strangely, but I can't deny that it was effective either. When I get stronger. Will you fight me again?"

He looked down at him strangely. Fight again? It was a strange request, no doubt. For some reason, Ojiro seemed excited at the prospect of facing him again.

...He couldn't deny that he felt a small ember of anticipation at the thought too. At some point in that match, it no longer became about winning or losing- the two simply began to have fun challenging eachother like that. Never before had he actually thought there could be any enjoyment in a fight.

"Yeah… Yeah, I think i'd like that."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Sweet mother of god, this chapter is almost double as long as my other chapters. Whenever I get to writing action, this inevitably happens. This isnt even the full spread; there was still a lot of scenes and clashes that had to be thrown to the cutting room floor just to avoid having this drag on any longer.**

**Either way, I still enjoyed it. And now we have Ritchie's quirk out in the open. However, it seems he's still holding onto some secrets about it. How strange... Furthermore, I'm beginning to further develop his personality- trying to make it as natural as possible.**

**A fun little thing about this story is that I'm really enjoying writing the interactions between characters. Especially with Aoyama. In my first story, I completely disregarded our flashy teen, but in this one I have to say that hes quickly become a favorite of mine. I'm not perfect at dialogue yet, but its a lot more fun that I anticipated.**

**Long story short, thats the chapter. But this mini arc has yet to fully unfold just yet. Just how did Ritchie know when to stop Tokoyami? What was the plan the two came up with? Will Mineta ever score? **

**I'll see you all next time. **


	7. Chapter 1: Cooldown

"Ah… Come on, Aoyama. Can you be a little more gentle?" Ritchie hissed in pain as Aoyama gave another tug to the knot tying the couple white bandages around his head.

"Apologies, Blackmore-chan. Your hair is just so…" One final tug, and the knot held- the bandages now carefully wrapped around his tender skull, his black hair hanging over it and mostly hiding it from sight. Aoyama grinned proudly. "There we are! All done."

As it turned out, Ritchie had not come out of that long trial unscathed. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, most of that match had been him being thrown around by Ojiro. His arms were now wrapped tightly in white wrapping to hide away the thick bruises dotting it, just as his abused knuckles now were. Even more shocking, something he hadn't realized was that the skin on the back of his head had been cut open- slowly trickling down the back of his neck for awhile now. No matter how surprisingly gentle and soft Aoyama's fingers actually were, it was still tender to the touch and left him jumping with pain at every touch.

Nary a minute after the conclusion of their trial, All Might had come bounding up the stairs with incredible speed. With practiced ease, he scooped up all of the fighters and brought them out to the untouched front of the building- the fresh air, free of dust and grime, salvation for their exhausted bodies.

The rest of the students had filed out of the monitoring room not far behind the pro hero. They watched the four as they were tended to, All Might giving them congratulations, condolences, and encouragement. But they kept their distance.

"Are you certain you wouldn't like to go see Recovery girl, you two?" All Might questioned as he stepped up to them.

He realized this would be the first time he had directly spoken to the towering man, "No. I'm fine, it'll heal on its own. I'd… rather not miss the next matches if I don't have to."

"Hah! Just the same as the hero team, then! Very well, I will not force you!"

Just a few paces away, Ojiro stood with the assistance of Tokoyami. Of the the two, Ojiro was the most heavily injured, while the bird teen had absolutely no injuries or visible weakness. The tail teen was bandaged up just as he was, plus a large patch on the bottom of his chin- Ritchie couldn't help the wash of guilt he felt when he saw that. Fair or not, he hadn't held back on that final attack; it had to have hurt like hell.

Over here, Aoyama looked a hell of a lot better than he did. Apart from a small bandage on his finger and cheek, there were no visible signs of injury, which he was thankful for. He was however covered in dust and dirt. Being thrown around that wrecked room constantly and fighting nonstop for ten minutes left him less than pristine.

Though he hid it well, from time to time his face would twist slightly in pain, his smile faltering as he staggered a bit. To keep Tokoyami at bay he was forced to stretch his quirk to its upper limits; putting an intense toll on his stomach. Though it wasn't quite as bad as it could get, from time to time his stomach would twist up with a sharp stabbing sensation.

"I too, shall stay. It would not do to deny my audience a chance to admire my victory, after all." So he said. Ritchie barely even reacted to the statement, instead fiddling to get his vest back on

As he slowly grew more used to Aoyama's strange personality, he felt he better understood what he left unsaid between his flowery words. Though he may claim that he wanted to bask in the fame of his victory, the reality was that he didn't want to leave if his partner was staying. Regardless of the trials they faced, they were both injured, and Aoyama could stick it out if Ritchie could.

Whatever his reasoning, Blackmore was glad to have a friend nearby.

"If you can walk, then let us make for the monitor room. It is time for your evaluation!"

* * *

As always, the monitoring room was packed to the brim. Something that he only briefly made note of. He supposed by now he had gotten used to being around so many people in his age group.

"Now then! Congratulations must go to the villain team! It was a hard fought match, but they pulled through! Well done!" Ritchie blushed as All Might rocked him back and forth with a massive hand on his shoulder. All the gathered students were staring at he and Aoyama, and it left him frightfully uncomfortable.

"It was an admirable match." Iida Tenya commented deadly seriously, and it only made him all the more embarrassed. "Both sides put forth their best."

"Hero team!" All Might called out, and Ojiro and Tokoyami immediately snapped to attention. "Well done! Though you did not win in the end, no one here can say that you did any less than your best!"

Ojiro nodded graciously, "Thank you sir." Tokoyami by his side said nothing, but still nodded along in agreement. His shadow quirk beside him crooned at the compliment however.

"My only statement going forward is this; teamwork is the key to this mission! Young Masahiro, although the situation was difficult, you lost sight of the objective. Tokoyami could have used your help, but you were too wrapped up in your match with Blackmore."

Now he blushed, "Ah… Yes sir."

"With that out of the way, who would you all say is the MVP of this particular match?!"

There was some hushed murmuring among the crowd, but within seconds a hand launched up from the middle. All Might flinched when he realized it was connected to Yaoyorozu Momo. He didn't mind the young girl taking command like that, nor effortlessly breaking down the trial, but it did rob him of the opportunity to be a cool teacher for the young generation.

But there were no more hands raising, so with only a small amount of reluctance, All Might pointed a finger at her, "Yes, you there in the front!"

"It was Blackmore-san." She said with certainty, her tone overflowing with a confidence that one could only have from an assured correct answer, "Because of him, Masahiro-san was kept away from the room with the bomb for the entire match. He made good use of his quirk and his opponents weaknesses to defeat him in the end as well. -Furthermore, with his quirk he was able to stop Tokoyami from reaching the bomb twice. He made sure to attack just when he was about to reach the bomb, and because of that he was unable to defend himself. If it weren't for him the match would have gone very differently."

By the end of the explanation, Ritchie Blackmore was left beet-red. It was technically all true, everything that the girl said acted as an almost play-by-play recount of what happened. Even so, hearing that all said out loud was still extremely embarrassing. Though it was said with calculating coldness, it was still praise- and pretty much no one ever praised him. Couldn't this be over already?

Something glinted in All Might's eye, his grin widening, "Well said! Blackmore is indeed the Most Valuable Fighter in this match! But tell me, young lady, how did Blackmore stop Fumikage?"

Yaoyorozu blinked in confusion, "...How? What do you mean?"

"Blackmore was the key to stopping Fumikage from reaching the bomb, but how did he know that he was even close to the bomb? They were separated by many floors after all!"

Kaminari, the blonde haired teen with stripe of black in his hair, stepped up next, a thoughtful frown on his face, "Didn't he just use his quirk?"

"No." Ritchie Blackmore shook his head at that, hoping to clear up the misconceptions before they got out of hand, "With _Blackfoot_, I can move anywhere I want, but I can't actually see what is happening there. Until I actually arrived physically, I had no clue what was happening in that room."

If he could, he was certain that Mineta would accuse him of using his quirk to peep on girls. He absolutely could not let this be a misunderstanding. _Blackfoot_ was a movement quirk, nothing more, nothing less.

At that, confused murmurs rose from the crowded students. Eyes darted as the meaning of that statement dawned on them. Suddenly, the entire match seemed a whole lot stranger. All Might's grin grew even wider, "So, how did he know exactly when to stop Tokoyami?"

They pondered on that. Iida, who seemed to take it as a personal challenge, especially so. But none of them could quite figure it out. By all means, it should have been impossible for the America to know exactly when to stop the hero team- but the footage didn't lie.

Seeing that they weren't any closer to solving the conundrum, All Might turned to Ritchie, "Well then, Blackmore! Would you be so kind as to explain?"

"Ah… Um, sure." Once again put on the spot, Ritchie floundered, but he ignored the urge to tap his foot frantically. He had just fought one of the most intense battles of his life, he could handle a little bit of public speaking now.

Coughing only once to clear his throat, he found somewhere to start, "At the beginning of the match I knew that I had to do something to swing the match in our favor. Guarding the bomb was the most important thing, and the best way to do that would be if we were both guarding it." Ritchie said, speaking toward the crowd with just a little anxiety in his tone, "But, if we fought in that room, then there would always be the risk that one of them could slip by, or that they could team up to get to it. I guessed that making a last stand wouldn't work."

Aoyama interjected, stepping up beside Ritchie and speaking with a theater-like quality, "We couldn't separate each other either. If only one of us was in that room then the other wouldn't be able to step in should they be knocked down. It seemed as though there would be no solution!"

"...Right." Ritchie coughed. That was about where he was going, if only a little more flamboyant than he would have put it. "So we needed a way to separate each other while also ensuring that I could get to the top floor in time to assist Aoyama. That's why I came up with a _plan_." The American raised a finger, his eyes hardening. "An alarm system."

"_Alarm system_?" Iida repeated, frowning at the idea. "What, like a motion sensor? How could you possibly set up something like that?"

"Hahah!" Aoyama laughed loudly. To anyone who was looking at him, it was obvious that he was having a lot of fun with this back and forth. He spun on his feet with unmatched grace, soaking up the attention. "Nothing so complicated! The alarm system was none other than yours truly!"

"Wait. Aoyama was the alarm? How the heck does that work?" The invisible Tooru Hagakure spoke up next, any confusion she was unable to express clearly through expression came through in her words.

"The alarm system itself was pretty simple." Ritchie continued, no longer stumbling over his words or hesitating. There was a strength to what he said that was comparable to the will he displayed in his fight with Ojiro. "It was glass bottles."

"Glass bottles…?"

* * *

**A Couple Minutes Ago...**

"Ah… Blackmore-chan… Explain to me how this works again?"

Blackmore was patient as he picked up one of the glass bottles he had pulled from the trash can, this particular one tinted a rosy pink. Though muddied by dirt, the once filled container was smooth to the touch and seemed to glimmer with a certain kind of luster in the sunlight. With practiced movements, he took his capture tape and wrapped the length of yellow twine around the neck of the bottle twice before lengthening it out.

"This is a little something that my father taught me when he went hunting. Usually when you're out in the wild or if you want to protect something, you'll have an alarm system set up to alert you whenever anything gets close." Ritchie moved onto the next bottle, his tongue poking out from his lips as he focused intently. "Since you won't always have perimeter cameras or tripwires out in the wild, you'll have to improvise materials. Hence the bottles."

Leaning forward, Ritchie bit off the length of tape. The bottles clattered to the ground, each of them having a separate long stretch of yellow tape wrapped around their necks that extended out limply. To make an example, they looked like strange yo-yo's with their strings pulled all the way out.

Taking the bottles, Ritchie stepped over to the window and, without any hesitation, tossed them out. Aoyama gaped at that, immediately taken aback.

"W-why would you do that?! I thought those were the plan?!"

"I didn't just drop them. Look-" Ritchie held up a hand, the yellow tapes still held firmly in his fist even though the bottles were dangling out the window.

Stepping back, Ritchie carefully laid the lengths of tape onto the floor and used nearby heavy trash to hold them down. The result was four separate stretches of tape leading toward and out the window; from the outside, the bottles were visible hanging gently a couple feet below the windowsill.

"This is the plan."

* * *

"Aoyama was tasked with defending the bomb, but I also knew that thanks to the drawback of his quirk that it would be impossible for him to do it alone. That's where the glass bottles came in." Ritchie Blackmore gestured upward to the screen that still showed the top floor of the office building.

"What the shit are you even talking about?" Bakugou, who had finally spoken for the first time since his own loss, barked at him. It was taking far too goddamn long to explain this plan for him. Ritchie couldn't help but flinch back at his ire, panicking and worrying that he was getting too long-winded.

Ojiro however, seemed to realize what he was getting at. None of the other students could quite catch on, but Ojiro had experienced it first hand. His face paled as he grasped the meaning of the plan.

"Wait… That room we fought in… You chose that place on purpose didn't you? You made sure you kept me in that room for this plan."

Ritchie nodded sagely, closing his eyes. "That's right. It was imperative that I fight Ojiro-san in that exact room. It was completely necessary that he stay there the entire match, so to keep him there, I didn't use my quirk until I absolutely had to. If he believed that he couldn't beat my quirk, then he may have ran to get the assistance of Tokoyami and beat both of us. The plan would have fallen apart."

It was a massive risk to take, especially when Ojiro could have easily rendered him unconscious at any moment if he landed a solid blow. But it was a necessary one.

"But why? What's so special about that room?" Yaoyorozu was still at a loss, a rare thing for someone as intelligent as her. Ritchie didn't blame her or any of them for still being confused, they were thinking too highly of him. There was no highly convoluted means by which the plan worked, they were just fooling themselves into believing that it was more complicated than it really was.

"Its special because it has a large window that faces away from the school." He pointed at the screen, "Just like the window I hung the bottles from."

His passionate declaration echoed through the room. It washed over his classmates, and the effect was immediate. Slowly but surely, shock spread through them- the final piece of the puzzle fitting into place.

A simple bottle alarm system, inspired by the bottle perimeter alarms that wilderness campers would use to alert them whenever a bear got to close to the camp. By hanging bottles from the window of the topmost floor, Ritchie Blackmore created a one-way radio system for which Aoyama could use to contact him. It was such a inconspicuous looking thing compared to the bomb that Tokoyami didn't even spare it a second glance.

Whenever Aoyama believed that he would be unable to stop Tokoyami from reaching the bomb, he would cut one of the lines of tape connected to one of the bottles- whether with his quirk or by knocking off the weights keeping it down. Without the tape, the glass bottle would fall- and because of the positions of the windows, the bottle would fall directly past the window for the room where Ritchie was fighting Ojiro.

Ritchie Blackmore was to keep Ojiro busy in that room while also paying attention to the window. Whenever he saw the bottle fall past, he would use Blackfoot to instantly appear at the top floor and stop Tokoyami. Blackmore acted as both a buffer for Ojiro, and a final safety net for the bomb.

"Something so simple… Damn. I never even realized it…" Tokoyami bit out, grimacing in shame. Throughout the entire trial, he was in the dark about Ritchie's quirk, only now did he know about it through Ojiro's description. There was no hope for him actually figuring out the plan in the middle of the trial, but he still felt scandalized either way.

Yaoyorozu gaped as her mind finally caught up, Uraraka just beside her seemed floored. "You- That- My god... I wouldn't have realized it either. It's so complicated yet also so stupidly simple…"

Harsh.

"I thought it was strange that Blackmore-san stopped fighting Ojiro-san every time the bomb was about to be touched. I can't believe I didn't notice why though!" Uraraka put in her own amazement.

"So you were never actually that invested in our match. You were always keeping an eye out for the bottles while fighting me. I… am not sure how I feel about that…" Ojiro mused humorlessly, shaking his head in his own shame at being so thoroughly fooled.

"I'm sorry about that, Ojiro-san." Ritchie chuckled nervously, his hand roughing through his hair only to fly back as he brushed his wound, "Ow. It really was fun to fight you, but the most important thing to me was winning the trial."

Splitting his attention between both Ojiro and the window was harder than it looked, but he somehow managed to pull it off. He doubted he could ever do it again however.

"It was effective, yet it relied on so much. It couldn't have possibly worked if Aoyama-san or Blackmore-san didn't trust each other to handle their tasks." Iida was lost in thought, thinking back to his own trial. No doubt still displeased at the lack of cohesion he had with his teammate. "I… Likely wouldn't have been able to pull off the same trick."

Bakugou scowled, openly seething, and Ritchie hurried to move the conversation away from that living landmine, "I-It was mostly luck. If anything didn't go exactly right, then we would have lost a whole lot quicker. There was probably a better way to set up a trap but-"

"But there was no time to do so, you did what you could with the time and resources you had." Ojiro cut him off, not allowing him to wave away the subject that easily, "Besides, luck or not you won."

All Might roared with laughter, enjoying the easily amazed children's faces- especially the American growing more and more embarrassed with each passing second. There was something inherently 'cute' about seeing the sparkle of life in the kid's eyes.

"Remember this, young Blackmore." All Might clamped a hand on the tall kids shoulder comfortingly, his eyes glinting with that same mischief it had when he was younger, "_Luck _is just another skill in a heroes repertoire. Just like hope and fighting spirit. There is no reason to be ashamed about good fortune."

"Luck can save innocent lives, just like skill and strength can. A good hero doesn't rely on it, but never dismisses it either."

"Yeah, but he was the villain in this trial. So technically innocent lives were lost here." A girl with earjacks attached to her earlobes, who Ritchie had actually not met yet, twirled one around her finger.

"OH! Ahah… Well, it still applies! It's a good metaphor too! Real villains won't let their plans be dictated by luck, so become stronger and smarter now; so that you can _make _those openings to victory!"

A plan that was dictated by luck and the trust he had for his teammate. All Might felt that, despite his position in the trial, it was exactly what a heroic plan should be. Of course, when innocent lives are involved you should never rely only on luck, a foolproof plan is much more preferable- but a good hero has the will to at least take the risks involved with chance.

"Now! Enough dallying! We don't have all day, and you must all have your opportunity to show your mettle! The next match must begin!"

* * *

The following matches were not nearly as climactic as Ritchie's or Midoriya's. The teams did put forth their best efforts, but none had that quality of a true competition- one where both sides were equal. Usually, the match would be decided by one of the other students having a decisive quirk that completely shut down the other team. Often, the other team could not even get close to the bomb before being brought down- all of the match ups just ruthlessly skewed toward one side.

For example, Yaoyorozu's match ended in that anticlimactic fashion. Being part of the villain team, she used her creation quirk to set up multiple highly conductive constructs to surround the bomb and Kaminari, her partner, followed up by keeping them constantly fed with electricity. The room was lit with the yellow glow of efficiently rerouted and circulated lightning, completely encasing the bomb from every angle. Sero and Tsuyu couldn't even get close.

Compared to the brutal slug-fest Blackmore endured, and the near incineration Midoriya avoided, it was a jarring change of pace.

Even still, Ritchie and the rest of the class watched on with rapt attention. Regardless of how quirks swayed the fights, it was still an interesting show to watch. With little to do for those long minutes, the American pondered on how he could possibly overcome those quirks were he in their position. Not easily surely, not anymore.

But this gradient was only pushed even farther on the latest match.

Ritchie Blackmore's jaw dropped as the screen that displayed the room with the bomb suddenly burst into a bright light. The above ground trembled for a moment, the unmistakable sound of breaking glass ringing out. Another screen, one positioned outside to get a clear view of the entire building caught it all.

For a moment, the office building was still- no signs pointing to what was happening inside. The next, the building violently shook, and out from each window came thick lances of pure ice- shearing straight through the walls and glass to stretch out into the open air. Shards fell the long way to the ground, the entire upper portion of the building beginning to emit a frigid air, almost as though it had simply been flash frozen. The clear blue crystals poking out from each and every direction gave the building an almost ethereal image.

The inner cameras, though covered partially with crawling webs of frost, were privy to an incredible sight. The walls and floors were absolutely coated with ice, the thick sheets of blue and white clinging with ferocity to every open piece of land.

Tooru and Kirishima were caught in the initial blast of hyper-frozen air. Without even a chance to resist, the duo were forcefully frozen to the ground from the waist down. They struggled, but the ice didn't even budge an inch. Even Kirishima, with all the strength given to him by his hardening quirk, could not even crack the ice and only managed to get his arms frozen to his sides for his troubles.

Silence reigned as the class watched Todoroki Shouto stalk through the room without care, Mezo Shoji trailing behind like some goliath. Like everyone, Todoroki wore his costume, but half of his body seemed to be frozen as well. Rigid growths and shelves of ice adhered to skin, plating his body with an armor-like quality that made him look almost monstrous- the gleaming red eye piercing through the blackness of his half-mask making him all the more intimidating.

His footsteps rang against the flash frozen ground, one soft and the other enhanced by the boot of manufactured ice. Kirishima seethed as the multi-colored boy passed by, completely unable to stop him as he swept through and captured the bomb.

As if to add insult injury, the moment his pale fingers made contact with the comically large bomb, ice immediately blew across its surface. It rippled from the point of contact like water did when a stone fell into it, the ice splintering out to coat the thing in a thick veneer of frost.

Ritchie blinked, his mind completely blank at the overwhelming display of power. Dimly he looked up at All Might, who seemed just as taken aback. Though, a small weakness at the corner of his lips changed Ritchie's mind; it was almost as though All Might expected this outcome.

"**THE BOMB HAS BEEN TOTALLY DEFUSED! THIS IS A COMPLETE VICTORY FOR THE HERO TEAM!"**

The rest of the class gawked as Todoroki moved back to his victims, and began to melt the thick layers of ice he produced. In contrast to the intensity with which it was created, the image of the ice being melted was almost gentle; the thick frost receding away like fresh snow being melted under the sun. Ritchie wasn't exactly sure how he was doing it, but he could catch the barest glimpse of waves of heat rolling from the teens fingertips. Within moments, the two villains were free to grimace and stew in their loss; though they did so graciously, at least.

_Heat and ice? _Having multiple facets of a quirk wasn't too uncommon, but usually not to such a frighteningly powerful degree. Usually when people carry multiple quirks, they are only meant to complement each other and increase their capability; like Bakugou and his ability to produce nitroglycerin from his sweat pores _and_ ignite it.

But having two vastly different powers at your ready disposal? To this magnitude? It was almost unheard of.

"What the hell… How is he so strong…? Its like he didn't even try!" Mineta choked out from beside him.

Aoyama nodded along, openly gawking at the screen along with everyone else, "The villain team didn't even have a chance to stop him. Such overwhelming power… I shudder to think what would have happened had we fought him."

It certainly wouldn't have been pretty. No matter how he sliced it, that plan of his wouldn't have held up for even a second against Todoroki. Such is the power of overwhelming strength.

"Ritchie." Mineta poked his thigh and he spared him a glance from the screen, "Do you think your quirk could beat his?"

He didn't even need to think on it, "No. I might be able to land a good hit on him, but I'd still have to get close- I'd just end up a Popsicle for my troubles." He was fairly certain he could overcome being frozen in place with his quirk, unlike Kirishima- but actually beating that monstrous quirk was a whole nother beast. He couldn't even begin to guess what lengths he would have to go through just to land a hit on him.

"I agree. Todoroki-san barely did anything, and I can already tell he is leagues above us all. That quirk of his is simply too strong."

Ritchie watched the screen as All Might congratulated an apathetic Shouto. His eyes lingered on the still frozen exterior of the building, a testament to the sheer power of these inborn abilities.

When he saw it, he felt something change inside him. It was a foreign, alien experience that he couldn't even hope to describe. Like suddenly having a fire lit in the pit of your stomach, and feeling the steam pressing in on his heart. His fingers twitched, clashing emotions warring inside of him as he stared at the screen in… excitement. This showing of power was amazing and terrifying, yet, to him, it was also so very exhilarating. It was a feeling that he had never experienced before.

"I want to fight him."

Ritchie Blackmore hadn't even realized he had spoken until he caught the incredulous stare of Mineta boring up at him. Immediately his hand flew over his mouth, cursing his treacherous tongue. He… He didn't mean to say that. His mouth had simply moved on its own, vocalizing his thoughts against his will.

"What the hell? You just saw what that guy did, and you want to _fight _him!?"

"I-I…!" Ritchie panicked, rubbing at his neck as his stumbled over his words. He didn't really know what he meant when he said that, it was just what he was thinking. "I don't really think I can beat him or anything like that!"

He wasn't that pompous. He wasn't actually strong enough to face any of the stronger members of the class head on, much less Todoroki. The only reason he had even beaten Ojiro was because of his quirk being kept secret. But…

"But, I still kind of want to try… I guess"

Mineta glared at him with a deadpan expression."You want to '_try'? _If you have a fetish for punishment, how about you keep it to yourself, huh?"

"Ahah… I'm sorry Mineta-san. I really can't explain it. I was just saying what I was thinking."

"I think I understand." Ritchie looked over, Aoyama was giving him a knowing grin, his natural charm reeking of glitter. He didn't like it. "Your competitive spirit has awoken, Blackmore-chan. Seeing Todoroki-san so effortlessly win has stoked the fire of competition in you! You want to test yourself against him, don't you?"

Mineta perked up, "What? Like those macho anime guys that just go looking for fights all the time?"

"W-woah, hold on! That's not it at all! I'm really not interested in fighting or being the strongest! I just-!"

"Well…" He didn't know what he wanted to say. What excuse he could possibly make up that would fool them _and _himself. Clicking his teeth, Ritchie turned away with a conflicted frown. This entire accidental conversation was making him extremely uncomfortable. He didn't want to think about this anymore.

Maybe he did have a powerful quirk, something that was proved by this trial. But that didn't at all give him the right to think he could stand at the same level as everyone else.

"Huh…" Mineta grunted as he placed a hand on his hip, "Well… If that's the case I guess I can sorta understand. Though I didn't really peg you for that kinda guy, Ritchie."

He quickly changed the subject, if Minoru was so interested in his inner thoughts then it was only fair that he turned it right back on him."Mineta. I think that's the last of everyone. Isn't your match up next?"

"INDEED IT IS!"

The green eyed teen flinched and looked up as All Might suddenly appeared over them. He hadn't even heard his approach, the hero simply materializing from nowhere. The towering man was grinning gleefully as he stooped down and scooped up the suddenly horrified perverted teen. Spinning on his heel, All Might marched back out the door, a very pale teen slung over his shoulder.

"W-wait! Hold on! My heart isn't ready yet!" Mineta kicked uselessly, his size completely dwarfed by All Might's muscular frame.

"Await our return, and do take notes!"

With that, they disappeared, the door heavily clanging behind them. Ritchie sweat-dropped just as everyone else did. There were various degrees of sympathy going around, but they all pretty much just breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't them in Minetas position.

Ritchie knew pretty much nothing about All Might or his strength. Everything relating to the mountain of the man mostly came to him through hearsay- short little comments about Japan usually were said in the same breath as the legendary hero no matter what country you heard it from. But nobody stood at the top of anything without being incredibly strong. Mineta didn't stand a chance.

"Well… I guess that's the last we'll see of him."

Aoyama nodded solemnly, "Gone before his time. How unfortunate. Where do you think he'd want to be buried?"

He'd probably want to be cremated and released onto a beach so he could get into girl's bikinis. He didn't say that, of course, but it was a fair enough guess.

As he drifted over those morbid and shameful thoughts, he caught a flash of muted color in the corner of his vision. Glancing over, Ritchie caught sight of Todoroki, who had returned to the room to stand far away from the rest of the class. His apathetic glare was just as stifling, and he didn't seem even the least affected by his trial.

Richie looked away before he could catch his eye. He had a lot to think about now.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, Mineta had actually fared quite well on his trial. That wasn't to say he had won, because he hadn't. It was an overwhelming victory in All Might favor to absolutely no ones shock.

All Might had played the villain in this particular scenario, ironically, and had protected the bomb with every inch of his intimidating frame. Even so, Mineta had not given up- and Ritchie wasn't afraid to admit that the short teen had put up a good fight for such demoralizing odds.

By the end of the match, Mineta had made good use of his quirk to catch All Might a few times. The sticky balls of hair gluing All Might down every now and then. But, the incredible strength of the pro hero proved too much for the pop-off quirk, and All Might thwarted his attempt to reach the bomb every time.

Ten minutes went by, and now Ritchie stared at the pitiful heap of sweat and exhaustion that was Minoru Mineta. He did feel bad for his friend, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was some sort of cosmic karmic retribution. Maybe he would take it as a sign to change his ways- though that may just be wishful thinking.

All Might placed his fists on his hips, not even looking remotely winded, "Well fought, Minoru! I could feel your desire to win! But remember, when fighting stronger opponents you must strive to look outside the box! This goes for all of you too, there will always be someone stronger than you- so strive to learn flexibility! Imagination is a muscle that you can train, just like your biceps!"

Mineta gave some sort of grunt from the floor that sounded vaguely akin to agreement.

"Now All trials have been accomplished! Whether you won or you lost, each of you have done incredibly well! Whatever you've taken from this mission, whether its a sense of planning or a new found respect for teamwork; don't forget it! Take your flaws and overcome them! Take your strengths and improve upon them! That is the way to become a hero!"

"That is **PLUS ULTRA**!"

One way or another, the foundation for becoming heroes has been set. It would take time to build upon it, but it was clear as day that each of those teens had the capability to become something great.

With those final words, All Might instructed them to return to the classroom post haste. Then, with his incredible speed, All Might took off without so much as an extra word. Almost as though he were in a rush. Not that Ritchie was all that surprised, All Might was a hero first and foremost- he no doubt had responsibilities aside from teaching a bunch of children.

If nothing else, the Yuuei schedule was very flexible to accommodate the freedom of the teachers- this entire trial proving that further. Blackmore paused and glanced down to the still prostrate pop-off user. It was obvious he had no desire to move anymore, so Blackmore thoughtfully reached down and picked him up- stuffing him under an arm.

On second thought…

"Aoyama-san. Would you mind taking Mineta back to the class for me?"

Aoyama tilted his head curiously but graciously reached out and took the small leg of their mutual friend, then promptly lowered him to the ground like dead weight. It was frankly obvious that Aoyama intended to drag him along rather than actually carry him.

"Certainly. But why? Is there something concerning you?"

"I just need to check on someone, I should be back in time for class though." Ritchie clarified.

Only taking a moment for the two former partners to share a nod, Ritchie activated Blackfoot and vanished on the spot- whisked away elsewhere.

* * *

Ritchie Blackmore tested the knob of the door, pleasantly surprised when it smoothly swung inward. After briefly addressing a map of the school, it was a simple matter for the American to find the Nurse's office in record time. The off-white building comfortingly nuzzled into a recess of the massive school where it couldn't possibly be missed. It was a little ironic to say that it had a welcoming and beckoning feel to it, only because there were very few cases where one would _want _ to have a doctor's visit, but still the feeling persisted.

The inside only bolstered that impression. Though clinical with its walls and rows of beds lining the wall; racks of books, assorted knick-knacks and goods, and modest little touch-ups here and there stood in contrast to that common assumption. It was the kind of tidy warmness that one could find from visiting their grandmothers house over winter break- he supposed.

The boy found himself breathing a small huff of relief. Though the day was fun, exciting, and oh so important to him- the relaxed comfort this place exuded did well to soothe his nerves. Sometimes, a little bit of calm relaxation could do a whole world of good. Though, maybe that was just the lazy bastard inside of him talking.

"Oh? Hello there." Ritchie blinked. On second examination of the room, there appeared to be a stout elderly woman sitting just behind the desk in the room. Her size and her apparent ability to blend in with the room making him completely overlook her.

The woman barely stood at four feet, meaning that she also could barely reach his waist standing straight. She had greying hair pulled back into a tight bun, alongside a face lined with age- to the point that her eyes seemed perpetually closed with wrinkles. Even still, she gave off a rather patient vibe- looking and feeling all the more like a loving elder that Ritchie assumed most people grew up knowing.

"Oh my!" The woman suddenly said, gently placing a few fingers over her mouth, her brow raising in worry, "It seems you're in need of some attention, aren't you? Well, you came to the right place young man. Come, sit. Sit!"

For a moment he blinked in confusion at the address, but quickly realized when he reached up to gently stroke the bandages Aoyama had tied around his head.

"Ah! No, I'm sorry I'm not here for that. I'm perfectly fine right now."

She was instantly skeptical, "Are you sure…? Even tiny injuries are no joke, you know. There's no shame in letting this old woman take a little looksie."

He _really_ didn't want to bother her by making her fuss over and heal him. It would be better for everyone if he just took a nap at home and let everything scab over.

"Honestly, I'm fine, Ma'am. I'm actually just here to see someone."

"Is that so…? Who might that be exactly?"

"Midoriya Izuku. He, uh, arrived a little while ago?" Ritchie elaborated, uncertain of whether or not he needed to prove he knew the timid guy, "Messed up arms, I think."

"Oh? Are you a friend of his?"

Not really? He doubted what they had could exactly be classified as friendship. Really, he was just worried about the guy- he really didn't want to imagine himself in his position. However, universal communication laws dictated there was only one actual answer to that question.

"Yes, I came to check up on him."

The older woman nodded as if coming to some sort of conclusion, "I see. Yes, that poor young man is here. I patched him up and he's been recovering just fine."

"Great!"

A few beats passed. Ritchie glanced around awkwardly, the old woman's stare unnerving him. All of the sudden, the comforting silence of the room wasn't quite so enjoyable. The teenager fidgeted on the spot. He tugged at the collar of his vest, now wishing that he had taken a moment to switch out his costume before coming here.

"...So, can I go see him?"

"Well… Normally I would allow it, but I'm afraid it's against my policy to allow freshly injured people to disturb my other patients. It could spread infection, after all." The woman's eyes lifted slightly in mirth, obviously enjoying his squirming. "It's kind of you to check on your friend like that, he does need it after all… but, you will have to let me give you a check-up first."

He was floored by the ultimatum. What the hell kind of old woman was this?

Ritchie gave one last weak attempt to dissuade her, "It-It's really not worth wasting the effort, Ma'am."

She pushed the comfortable looking chair out and gestured to it, "I'll be the judge of that. Now, sit."

Sighing in resignation, the American took his seat. Obeying her orders, he bent over to allow her better access to the wrapping around his skull. From this position, he was able to see the little placard set upon the table. It reading out: Recovery Girl.

Apparently content with the previous job of his head bandages, Recovery Girl moved onto the wrappings of his hands- and these did come off. Ritchie grimaced when he caught the angry purple marks and red lines dotting his hands. Blocking such heavy blows and constantly breaking his falls on that rough ground had left them a little less than pretty for the moment.

The old hero's tiny hand turned his hand over a few times, gently testing his flesh. There were a few flashes of pain, but as usual Ritchie ignored them with his casual tolerance. All the while, recovery Girl spoke softly to him. "It's not very pretty, but there's no bad damage. I assume you got this in combat trials?"

"Yeah. I had to fight someone. My hands got a little messed up along the way, I guess."

She took hold of his thumb, and this time he did flinch in pain. A cold lance shot up his arm, and he immediately had to resist the urge to yank his wrist away. "I can tell. You've been punching lately, apparently."

He really did feel like he was being scolded right now. How embarrassing.

"Take a look at this." The woman gestured to his thumb, her expression suddenly focused and her voice lecturing. "You're hurting yourself more than you are your opponent like this."

Ritchie frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Based on the injuries here, it looks like you're tucking your thumb in when you go for a punch. It's a rookie mistake. You're just lucky you didn't dislocate your thumb doing that. Look-" Gently, she balled his hand into a fist and made sure to place his thumb along the bottom of his knuckles, completely altering how he would normally hold it, "Make a fist like this. That way it stays tight, and you don't risk breaking your own bones."

"Huh…" Ritchie mused as he examined his fist. He had to admit, this did feel far more natural than what he had before. In that trial, he had given up on his punches simply because they hurt him too much- kicks being a far simpler matter to handle. Every time he struck Tokoyami, he would find himself flinching back from the foreign pain. He hadn't realized that this was the reason why. "There really is a lot to fighting, isn't there?"

Just another thing he was atrociously bad at. Good for nothing.

"Recovery Girl smirked as she took the hand back, completely heedless to his thoughts, "It's a common mistake. Just be glad you didn't get hurt too bad like your friend over there… Either way, it's good that you got these wrapped up when you did. You're already on the way to making a full recovery."

"Thanks… A good friend did them for me."

"Hmm, It's always nice to have good friends these days. But let's speed up your recovery, shall we?"

Before Ritchie could even question her, Recovery Girl's lips suddenly puckered and flew downward. It was an immensely strange sight to see, even if it only lasted less than a second. Her lips pressed against his bruised hands before pulling back, leaving the barest feeling of wetness there.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered Izuku briefly telling him about Recovery Girl's mending quirk, and the barest sensation of his flesh healing itself at an accelerated pace proved that. Though it was a very unsettling sensation as well, like ants crawling under his skin. Slowly but surely, the blue and purple bruises receded beneath his skin. The usual pale flesh came back, looking just a little healthier than it usually did.

"Wow…" Ritchie Blackmore flexed his hand, marveling at the good as new job. His head too felt far better, like lifting a weight from him. He had not been completely healed yet, but the speed of his recovery was incredible. However…

Recovery Girl gave a willowy giggle as Ritchie stubbornly bit back a yawn, his pale hand fruitlessly rubbing at the corner of his eye, "It's a useful quirk, but it's only accelerating your healing speed. It takes a good bit of your energy, so you're probably tired."

"Hmm." He grunted. He was a little drowsy now, but he was far from passing out on the spot. "Its fine. Thank you for healing me, Recovery Girl. I feel a lot better."

"I'm glad. Here, have a sucker." Not waiting for him to stutter an answer, the old maiden foisted it into his hand, "Midoriya is in the bed at the end there. If he's asleep do let him rest, alright?"

"No problem." Sticking the sugary sweet between his teeth, Ritchie stood up and vanished. In an instant he was beside the thick curtain that kept the beds isolated from each other. Recovery Girl gave a small peep of surprise at his movement, and he inwardly kicked himself for not warning the poor woman.

Now that his quirk was out in the open again, he wasn't as reserved with its use. Back home, it wasn't that surprising to never actually see him walk anywhere unless he was talking to someone, whenever he wanted to go somewhere he would deign to just use his quirk. Even short distances, like crossing over to the kitchen from the living room, were all breached with Blackfoot. Maybe it was lazy, but it was a habit he couldn't really cut unless he was actively focusing on it. Distance had no bearing on him, it was really only a formality to walk places- something he would do because it was expected of him, rather than because he needed to.

Throwing off that thought, Ritchie stepped forward and parted the divider- slipping into the small room. Like the rest of the office, this section was suited to comforting wounded patients. Pushed up against the wall was a hospital bed, its clean linen sheets slightly ruffled from its inhabitant.

Midoriya blinked and looked up, truly shocked when he saw the vaguely worried face of his fellow classmate step into the space. Of all the people he expected to step through that curtain, All Might was pretty much the only one. Maybe Uraraka if he were willing to be a little presumptuous, but certainly not the enigmatic American that he had barely spoken to.

"Blackmore-san?" Midoriya's scratchy voice was a little out of place, just as his tired eyes and weak body language were. In his current state his normal timid personality was less stark.

"Sorry about barging in like this, Midoriya-san." Ritchie began, stepping close to the bed so the guy could see him better, "The trials ended a little bit ago, All Might let everyone go back but I wanted to make sure you were alright first. I, uh, didn't get a chance to earlier."

Midoriya blinked in confusion. Was he… worried about him? Even now, after all this time, that notion still surprised him. Ochako was a shock enough with how much care she seemed to place in him, but he didn't really expect to get that same treatment from anybody else.

"...Huh?" Midoriya immediately cringed. It was not exactly the smooth answer he was hoping to give.

Completely unperturbed by the bland answer, Ritchie Blackmore pulled up a nearby chair and took a seat- backwards, the back of the chair pressing up against his chest as he crossed his arms atop it. The sucker between his teeth swapped sides, sliding over his the teeth in his closed mouth. "You got really messed up out there you know, i'm pretty sure everyone was a little worried about you."

"O-oh… Well, I'm sorry about that. I… I get hurt a lot, so I guess I'm just used to it."

"Don't worry about it. Getting hurt isn't exactly something you can help."

"W-well…" Midoriya didn't really know how to respond to that, and coughed in embarrassment as he averted his eyes. "T-thank you for checking up on me, then. It's really kind of you."

Ritchie smiled passively, "I'm just doing what I'd want other people to do for me. After what you've been through… It's the least I can do. That Bakugou guy really didn't hold anything back in that trial."

His face grew pensive, a perturbed brow pulling at his mouth, "It was kinda scary, honestly. I've never seen anyone fight like that before. I… I guess it looked like he was trying to kill you- crazy as that sounds."

Some small part of him had really worried that the other teen had been irreversibly injured, despite the reassurance of a quirk to patch him back up swiftly- that worry had partly driven him here to make sure of his health with his own eyes.

Despite the gravity of his words, Midoriya smiled- even if it was strained. "Yeah, Kacchan is like that. He's kind of vicious when he gets mad but-! Well, he's a good person!"

"Hmm. I'll believe it when I see it. Not even my match got that dangerous, and I got thrown around pretty much the entire time- so take that for what you will."

Immediately he caught Midoriya's attention, the frizzy-haired boy's eyes lighting up as he pushed himself up slightly. "Oh right! The other matches! What happened while I was gone? Did you win your match?"

"Yeah. It was pretty tough, but me and Aoyama managed to scrape a win by."

"What happened? Who were you up against?"

"Ahh… How about I tell you later? I kinda don't want to explain it all again, not when I'm this worn out." There was enough boasting his 'accomplishments' for one day. He worried the sucker in his mouth at the very prospect. "But I can tell you a bit about the other ones, you missed a lot of cool things and my memory is my strongest point."

"P-please do!"

* * *

All Might sighed as he pushed open theoffice door, the cool air washing over his exhausted skin as he strode in. Unlike what he wore today, All Might now fitted himself into a smart navy blue suit- tailored to his form by an expert hand.

Tailored to his current form, that is. Unlike how he usually presented himself to the world, this All Might was but a shell of that towering Number One Hero. With gaunt limbs, skin stretched over thin bones, and a sunken face that made him look horrifically sickly- it was near impossible to draw any parallels between the two personas. The only real sign that it was the hero behind that visage was the thick juts of blonde hair that fairly imitated how his heroic form's hair would proudly stand upright.

His time was beginning to grow shorter with every day. Even just the task of overlooking a trial for the students had nearly sapped him of the last of his allotted time. It was well worth it, of course, but it was sobering nonetheless.

"Ahh… Toshinori. I was wondering when you would show." All Might glanced over, his hollow eyes settling on Recovery Girl who sat comfortably behind her desk.

"Yes, I'm sorry I took so long. The class went on longer than I anticipated." All Might, or Toshinori as his alter ego was lesser known, glanced around the room. It was as he remembered it in his many, _many_ visits from the past. Inviting, in a way that an infirmary really shouldn't be.

"How is he? Has he recovered well?"

Recovery Girls face was tense as she answered. "Yes. He will make it through fine. The damage was… Extensive, but nothing that will scar." Her words were exhausted. Just remembering those wounds made her tired all over again. "He's resting in the bed at the end over there now."

"Thank you, Recovery Girl." All Might nodded and moved to go check on his pupil, only to have a cane gouge his stomach- just abreast of his old wound, and stop him still. "Guh!"

"You can't. Midoriya has a visitor right now. Don't go interrupting them."

All Might clutched at his stomach, and sent Recovery Girl an exasperated frown. Then he blinked in confusion. "A visitor? What do you… Who is visiting him?" All Might glanced back down to the curtain, valiantly maintaining the privacy of the hospital bed within.

"That American transfer student we were all told about. The one with the strange quirk." Recovery girl answered, "He came just a minute ago, said he wanted to check on Midoriya."

He blinked again. That wasn't exactly what he expected.

She could only be talking about Ritchie Blackmore, only the third transfer student from America among Yuuei's entire long history. He had been an interest of All Might's ever since he saved that Aoyama boy during the entrance exam. Only a very select few entrants in that exam had actually scored points like that. He felt that the boy had the makings of a true hero, and with a quirk like that he couldn't help but want to pay attention to his progress.

His interest in him had only grown after today's trial. Though only mediocrely skilled in direct combat, the American had stunned All Might with how clever he could be. Thinking up a plan like he had wasn't something that a normal kid could do- especially with so little time. There was definitely more to that boy- just like there was more to Bakugou, just like there was more to Todoroki. Potential, and that was all that really mattered to All Might now.

But to hear that he was visiting his pupil? It was a little unexpected. As far as he knew, the two weren't nearly close enough for that. Uraraka or Iida he could expect, those three were obviously close. The American seemed like the last person he expected Midoriya to associate with.

It was heartwarming for the older hero. Whatever the case, it was comforting to know that his pupil had fellow students that were looking out for him. Blackmore had his gratitude, anyone who was willing to take the time to check on his precious pupil was A-Okay in his book. There was no real reason to come here, not when recovery was assured, but he had anyway. A true friend. Midoriya was someone who needed more friends, if only to help him break out of that timid shell he always seemed to be stuck in.

"I see. Then I will wait, I have time."

"Oh, is that so?" Recovery Girl smiled, and the temperature of the room steadily began to drop. "Well, if you have time, how about we step outside? There are some things that I am simply dying to discuss with you."

"Ahh…" He didn't at all like where this was going. Already he could tell he was in for the lecture of a lifetime. "O-oh, actually I just remembered I have some paperwork from Aizawa that I must fill out! So let me… Just…"

Recovery Girl's smile never left. All Might could not hold her gaze.

"...Okay."

* * *

Ritchie recounted the trials as he recalled them- with near photographic clarity. Midoriya hung onto his every word, soaking up the information like a sponge. No doubt he was analyzing all those quirks and how they were used in the trial, pre-planning what he intended to write in those hero notebooks of his.

"Amazing… To think that Jirou-san's quirk could work across that many floors."

"Right?" Ritchie laughed, recalling the match and that ear-jack girls victory. It was one of the more interesting matches, almost as high-strung as his own. "Pretty much everyone was on the edge of their seat for that one."

"But from how it sounds- it seems that Koda could have won that fight." Midoriya muttered, tilting his head in thought. "For a building like that, Koda had control over an almost unlimited amount of insects. Since Jirou-san hates insects so much, apparently, he might have been able to overwhelm her or at least really throw off her focus. Something like that could really be dangerous in such small quarter- especially to phobes."

Ritchie had slowly grown used to the bouts of muttering the green-haired teen slipped into, even if it was still a little unnerving to see happen. "He would have had the advantage, but remember- Jirou-san's quirk was really loud when she used it like that- his commands to the insects were all drowned out, so they couldn't follow them."

"Right, right… Wow, everyone has such amazing quirks. Especially you, Blackmore-san. It's really incredible that you're so young, but you have such a useful quirk." Midoriya smiled as Blackmore blushed and fumbled a denial out. "But me… I can't even use mine without hospitalizing myself. I thought that at least by now I could have gotten a hang of it, but… I guess I still need to be saved, huh?"

"Having a quirk that hurts you that much must be a real pain in the ass, huh?" Ritchie said, looking at his acquaintance with a little sympathy. Quirks were so powerful, being unable to control them- even hurting yourself because of that, was a very scary notion.

Midoriya had lived with that his whole life. Ritchie could only guess at how awful it must be to never be able to use your quirk for your entire life simply because of how wickedly it could injure you. He never would have made it this far if he didn't have his quirk as a crutch to lean on. Midoriya had it backwards, it was he who was incredible.

"Yes… It is frustrating, but I have no one but myself to blame. Sometimes I wonder if such a powerful quirk is wasted on someone like me…"

Maybe it was the exhaustion making him say things he likely never would, but Midoriya had just bared a small fraction of his heart to the other teen. This was something that he wouldn't even tell his idol if he could help it, but it just ended up slipping out amidst an otherwise casual conversation. It was strange. Ritchie Blackmore seemed to possess a stirring charisma that made him want to keep talking to him. It wasn't as though he spoke strongly or inspired confidence, because his uncertain words could not be further from accomplishing that. It was like talking frankly with someone only because you knew that they could understand you on a deeper level than other people could.

Ritchie himself was stunned at Midoriya's pessimistic declaration. Not only because it was such a startling contrast from how the shorter teen usually acted, but because of how much it resonated with him. Ritchie couldn't count the many times that he had thought that exact thought.

The two were extremely different, there was no denying that- but they had common ground in the worst of ways.

Ritchie's eyes turned up to the ceiling, the sucker long gone, giving him nothing to distract himself. It was obvious that Midoriya had broken his own mood with that comment, and he had no clue how to cheer him up. Everything he tried to think of just came off as placating and insulting in his mind. Hypocritical even, coming from him.

Gah! He wasn't a damn counselor! He couldn't cheer people up with some rousing speech like All Might. Hell, he barely even had any experience talking with people in his age group in the first place. Everything so far has just been him stumbling through what he assumed kids these days talked about. Now because of his own inexperience, he had ended up kicking the spirits of an already injured guy.

Perhaps mercifully, he figured out a way to salvage this. "Midoriya…" The teen perked up, looking at the black-haired boy with curiosity, "I never got a chance to ask earlier, but what is the name of your quirk?"

He blinked. Once, twice, and then a third time just to make sure he heard right. "H-huh? The name of it?!" Inside he began to panic frantically. Why would he ask something like that?! Did he know?! All Might should have been the only person who knew the name of this quirk!

Ritchie wasn't even close to following his line of thought, "Yeah. You know- like how my quirk is named _Blackfoot_. Your quirk is really incredible, so I was wondering what I should call it."

"W-why would it have a name?"

"What? Why wouldn't it? Doesn't everyone name their quirks?" Ritchie blinked, now just as confused as Midoriya.

"N-No?" Midoriya shook his head, "Some people do, but, most just call it by what it does. You're the only person I know who actually has a _name _for it." Aside from All Might, but that was a special case.

"Seriously!?" Ritchie groused, slouching into his chair, "Is this another cultural difference I haven't caught onto yet? Man… back home pretty much everyone does it."

"Some Pro-heroes do give their quirks names, but it's really rare."

Popularity came from action and flashiness. Heroism and image went hand in hand. The public was far more interested in the man behind the quirk, and how that quirk is used, rather than something as pointless as its name. Even if a hero had a named quirk, people wouldn't really care to remember it for long.

Ritchie thought on this. He knew that America and Japan were different in so many ways, but this was a shocking revelation. He couldn't imagine not naming his quirk- or naming it something stupid like 'space eraser'. Now it suddenly made sense why the other students didn't make the names of their quirks known- they didn't _have_ names.

But that did plant a little idea in his head. "Maybe that's why your quirk doesn't work right."

Midoriya stared at him, not understanding what he was getting at. "Why it doesn't work…? What do you mean?"

Damn, he was in it for the long haul now. "Well… Look at it this way." Ritchie rubbed at his chin as he mulled over how to best describe his thoughts, something he would apparently have to get used to, "Quirks are with us from birth, they're basically the single most important thing to a person. We rely on them for pretty much everything- from simple housework to saving our lives."

Izuku flinched heavily at his words but didn't interrupt.

"We rely on them, we put our trust in them. _Trust._ Using a quirk requires a degree of trust- kind of like trusting a partner on a school project. Or trusting a gun." He elaborated, "Any man can hold a gun, and he can use a gun to cause a lot of damage. But he has to at least have faith in it. He has to trust that it will fire, he has to completely trust that it wont jam or explode in his hand- if he can't trust it, then that doubt can make his hand shake, and he would end up missing anyway."

"Having trust in your quirk? I-I'm sorry Blackmore-san, I really don't understand." Midoriya said exasperatedly, the metaphors flying right over his head.

"Well… I guess a better way to put it is to say that a quirk is your best friend. Whatever we do in life, a quirk is like a partner that we need to rely on. That's why having trust is so important. That's why naming it is so important."

"I wouldn't be able to trust my quirk, and my quirk wouldn't be able to trust me if it didn't even have a name. By naming it, it started to become something real to me- not just a tool, not just a gun. It became mine. Having a name is kind of like the first step to building a relationship with your quirk. 'Course, you can still grow strong without naming it. But I think you'll get stronger a whole lot faster if it has a name."

Any man can own a dog, but would he really love it if he didn't even take the time to name it? Would that dog ever learn to love its owner if he never gave it a name of its own? That was the basic psychology behind his stance.

Ritchie gestured down to his feet, "When I was a kid I was completely terrified by my quirk. It kept activating without my sayso, and I would end up in foreign and terrifying places all the time." He winced as he remembered those days, and the near endless bouts of crying he went through. He really didn't feel like traveling down that particular memory. "Then, one night I was fed up, and I ended up naming it in spite."

It was a very dark night, with nothing but the silence of the Alaskan wilderness and the black tint of his feet to mock him, he went and named it. It was a childish name calling, he just so annoyed with his mean quirk that he called it the first thing that came to mind like one would a particularly annoying kid on the playground. _Blackfoot._ Not at all creative, but fitting.

"After that, it wasn't really that scary anymore. Giving it a name changed how I looked at it, and I finally took control. It proved that it was _mine_, not just a power that I had no control of. Now… Here I am, I guess."

Midoriya stared at him. Hard. The tale was told amidst a little fumbling as Ritchie tried to best formulate his words, but the meaning behind it was clear. Whatever he was expecting from this conversation, this was not it. He had never considered that there was so much behind naming a quirk- before this, that idea seemed pointless. It was the strength of the person who used the quirk, not the power of the quirk itself that was important.

The idea of there being trust between a hero and his quirk was simply too alien to consider. Yet, Blackmore's words did make sense. He couldn't deny that the idea seemed almost appealing now.

"So you're saying that if I name this quirk… I might be able to use it safely?"

"Well… It definitely couldn't _hurt_. I think that naming it would at least make you more comfortable with it. But, yeah, I think you just don't trust your quirk enough- not that I blame you. If _Blackfoot_ broke my ankles every time I used it, I probably would have just settled down as a house-husband."

Midoriya chuckled at that, briefly imagining that. Somehow or another, Blackmore had managed to pick the mood up- and gave him a lot to think about at the same time.

"Do you really think I can learn to trust my quirk like that?"

Ritchie Blackmore didn't know about the truth of his quirk. The words really spoke to him, but could it really apply to someone who had never even had a quirk for the majority of his life? Someone who had been given a quirk simply on chance?

He smirked, giving off a small closed eye smile. "Of course I do. You passed that trial, and you made it this far- I have no doubt in my mind that you can overcome that weakness. If I can figure it out, it'll be no sweat for you." It was really just a gut feeling, but his gut was rarely ever wrong; the green haired teen would be just fine.

Midoriya beamed. "A-alright. I'll think about it. Thank you… Blackmore-san."

"Tch… Someday I'll get you all to just call me by my name." Ritchie scowled, leaning further into the chair. But the mirth in his eyes made it obvious he wasn't really that bothered.

By now, he should really be returning to the classroom. Aoyama was probably wondering where he had gotten to. But… Technically he was still a little injured after that match, the nurse's quirk not healing him fully just yet. No one could blame him if he stayed for a little longer.

Ritchie made himself more comfortable, and began to talk with Midoriya a little more. The subject was much more genial, more about the culture of Japan and heroes. Ritchie soaked up the infinite amount of information that Izuku readily and cheerfully gave with a grin on his face. For the moment, they simply talked. It was a good talk, one without the interruptions of any awkward silences or lack of subject to talk about.

At some point, Midoriya passed out from his building exhaustion in the middle of one of his long spiels. One moment he was animatedly fawning over a certain heroes quirk, the next he was bonelessly falling back into the plump pillow. Ritchie wasn't afraid to admit it spooked the hell out of him.

Only taking a moment to make sure the freckled guy hadn't actually died on him, Ritchie brushed past the curtain and stretched himself. Slipping a hand into his pocket, the black-haired American yawned widely as he popped the screen of his cutting edge phone on. Wincing at the time, Blackmore realized that a good half hour had passed since he came to the office. For someone who rarely talks to people his own age, he had found himself losing himself in conversation with his classmates quite often.

Oh well. Luckily, the rest of the days classes after Foundations of Heroic were optional electives. No one would find it strange that he had chosen to spend his time here.

It was an enlightening experience, talking to Midoriya. His classmates had a broad understanding of many things that Ritchie had yet to grasp, mostly things involved with heroism. Just speaking to him for a few moments gave him a better idea of what a hero really is; what he should be striving to achieve. Further proof that he would need to try even harder to truly change himself.

He should make the effort to speak more to him, he was an earnest and reliable fellow; traits that he could respect.

With that nebulous promise in the back of his mind, Ritchie stepped out of the infirmary; contemplating how to spend the last few dregs of his day. Things were… they were looking up. He finally felt as though this plan of his was beginning to bear fruit; or at least, he felt as though he could handle the challenges that would come now. He could do this.

…

…

…

* * *

**Some Years Ago…**

Dust erupted into the air as the thick wheel of the truck bounced through a particularly rough patch of the dusty road. The coppery particles flew into the air in a cloying cloud, faintly drifting through the arid and humid air. The air, much too hot to comfortably breathe, was filled with the harsh humming of a too old engine, chugging through its gasoline as it powered down the completely barren road.

The truck was compact, with a bed that was packed to the brim with barrels of trash and other useless commodities. It was painted a bland matte green, the constant wear and tear of traveling down this dusty road making it appear cracked and faded with dirt that seemed bonded to the hot metal- the truck appearing more bronze than the forest green the owners were promised.

Even still, it powered through the harsh climate; the unbearable heat of the uninhibited sun bearing down on it without any sign of reprieve. Stretched out for miles around it was absolutely nothing; a wide wasteland of arid soil, like a desert. Not a single soul could be seen. The only real sign of life was the many spiky ferns and sprouts that had adapted to the awful weather.

All in all, it was one of the most miserable places on this planet. The two people in the cabin of that truck would rather be just about anywhere else.

The man in the passenger seat stretched out like a cat, wincing as his stiff muscles popped under his boiler suit. All those hours of just sitting in this seat had given him an annoying ache all across his body. The truck was too cramped for a man his size, and although coated with dust, the windows did absolutely nothing to stop the burning heat of the sun that speared through the windows and tanned his already dark skin further.

The only real salvation was the A/C system, which even now blew a steady stream of cold air directly into his face. No matter how much the world improved, no one could top the inventor of electric air conditioning systems. If he saw that man now he could probably kiss him, open mouth.

He would have enjoyed the cool air for a little longer if the unmistakable sound of a button being pressed didn't grab his attention, and push a vein to the top of his forehead.

["Look. Can we listen to somethin' else already?"] The large man rounded on the driver, now pissed off.

The driver, a stick-like white man with a goatee and a literal rat tail, turned and gave him his own feral glare. Just like the passenger, his skin was slick with cooling sweat, and he seemed just as uncomfortable as he was in those rough leather seats.

["The hell is your problem man? You got something against Queen?"] He bit out, not even bothering to look at the dust caked road that never saw more than one car at a time.

["No. I fuckin love Queen. But I don't love listening to the same three discs on repeat for three fuckin hours. Just put the goddamn radio on if you aint got no more discs!"]

["The antenna is gone, moron. Knocked off when your fat ass went to take that piss on our last trip. No more KYMT for us."]

["Shut the hell up. I told you it was bird that hit it! You seriously ain't got no more discs in this piece a shit?"]

The driver groaned in annoyance, settling back into his seat as counted to ten. No man deserved to be trapped in a car with another man for more than an hour. It just wasn't meant to happen. It was a miracle that the two hadn't ripped each others throats out yet.

["Yeah yeah… Jesus."] Grumbling incoherently, he reached down beneath his seat and fumbled for a moment. After a second he came back with a case that he promptly popped open, pulled the disc from, and jammed into the slot above the radio. ["...Gotta do everything my own goddamn self."]

The passenger waited a moment before relaxing when the music came through over the speakers clearly. ["Dire Straits, huh? Feh… You really have a thing for the classics, huh?"] Even still, he found his feet tapping along to the agreeable rhythm. Even janky country music would be preferable to listening to the same six songs on repeat.

The driver snorted, ["If you're so pleased, how about you do your job? Check on the cargo."]

["What?"] The tanned man turned back to him with an incredulous expression, ["What the hell would I need to check on it for?"]

["I dunno? Just to make sure its still there, or somethin'."]

["Still there?! Where the hell would it go?"]

["Maybe it reanimated while we were distracted, and it's just about to strike and feast on our brains."] The rat man chortled, enjoying the way his partners face immediately paled.

["Shut the hell up with that already! It was one time!"]

["You only need to shit your pants once, Phil."]

That didn't go over well.

["Hehe… OW!"] The driver winced back as Phil struck him hard in the shoulder, the truck swerving precariously on the road for a moment before righting, ["Jesus! Alright how about this- check on it cause its your fuckin' job!"]

["Yeah, Yeah. Whatever…"] The passenger huffed, but still did as he was told. Leaning back over the middle of the truck, he peered back into the back seats.

The back was even worse than the outside. Trash absolutely littered it, various spills, tracked mud, and grime caked almost every inch. It was shadowy too, being shielded by the front seats while also being relatively small and cramped back there.

Stretched out along the back seats was a thick tarp; a coarse burgundy blanket that was laid out lengthwise. Small bumps and indentations could be seen warping the surface of the blanket; giving it the faintest appearance of there being something vaguely human shaped underneath it. Obviously, someone was underneath it; but because of the stifling size of the blanket, it was impossible to make out gender or anything else.

["Well, what do ya know? It's still there."] Phil called back, annoyance filling his words.

["Give it a kick. Can never be too sure these days."]

Phil huffed, but capitulated again. His fist met the blanketed form, and shook it from the force. There was no response, it merely slid back further into the seat while something slipped out from underneath the blanket.

Slipping out and hanging limply over the edge of the seat, a pale hand was visible. The skin was bruised and cold, contrasting the pleather of the seats. There was absolutely no life in it as it jostled with every bump of the car's suspension.

["Yep."] Phil popped his tongue, slipping back into his chair. ["Dead as dead can be."]

["Was that so hard?"] The driver sneered, slipping a cigarette into his mouth. Phil merely sighed, trying to find that comfortable spot in his seat again.

["Man… I just don't get it anymore. Why the hell do we have to take this long ass drive out to the badlands just to toss one stinkin body?"]

["It's the principle of the matter."] The rat man explained, having already heard this complaint enough times, ["The boss didn't get where he was by being careless. Dead bodies attract a lot of heat, so this is necessary."]

["Yeah, I can understand that for a mob boss or some big shot. But that-"] He jabbed a thumb back into the cab, ["-is just a kid. Barely even looks 18. Who the hell is gonna go around sniffing for some brat like that?"]

"Look, moron. We don't get paid to ask questions. If you like money then shut the fuck up and get the shovel."

["Yeah but- huh?"] Phil paused and glanced around, not having realized that the car had come to a standstill far off the road. Already, his partner was popping open the door to step out into the hot desert. ["You bastard! Why the hell didn't you tell me we were so close!?"]

["Hurry the hell up!"]

Grumbling, Phil got his shovel and tossed it over to his partner who quickly began digging at the dry soil. The ground gave way easily, dirt clearing away as the man got to work. Phil himself popped open one of the back doors and went for the body. It was limp in his arms, the blanket bunching up as he fitted his hands underneath its shoulders and dragged it out. Dimly, he was made aware of how light the corpse was.

Phil set the body down next to the shallow grave. His partner approached him, extra shovel in hand which he readily took. They had barely been out here for more than a few minutes, and he could hardly stand it. The sooner they got this done, the better.

Taking the shovel in a firm grip, he lifted it up and brought it crashing down; the spaded tip piercing through the soil with a scraping shriek.

* * *

**A/N: **

**And that's that. Honestly, this entire chapter came as a surprise to me. I was hitting roadblock after roadblock trying to make the dialogue and progression sound right. I'm still a little iffy on it, but I'm at least comfortable enough to post it now. Usually I loathe to post a chapter thats nothing but dialogue between characters, but I really didnt have a choice this time. **

**Our hero's personality has begun to change ever so slowly, questions are answered and more questions appear, and bonds deepen even further. I hope I managed to explain everything correctly so that no details were missed, and more importantly- I hope I kept everyone in character. Fitting so many different personalities into a single chapter is hell on my mind.**

**Hate it or love it, its done now. Up next, normal school- but evil begins to make its move in the background.**


	8. Chapter 1: Set the Tone

**The Next Day...**

The sound of Ritchie Blackmore's feet on the hard, perfectly squared tiles of the school hallway was abrupt. A juttering sound with a frightfully loud squeak that had the American flinching. Luckily, the hurriedly passing throngs of students and hero hopefuls drowned it out for the most part. This early morning saw many a strangely quirked student hurrying to get to the classes they still had not yet memorized fully; the center of the hallway a veritable river of bodies that Ritchie just knew he could easily get swept away in if he stepped into it.

He had already learned his lesson when he used _Blackfoot_ yesterday and appeared in the middle of the hall, and was promptly sent straight to the ground by a heavyset boy. He had nearly been trampled half to death then. All those tales his father's friends spun never got even close to describing how cutthroat school could really be, even for something as mundane as a morning rush.

"Wha-! What the hell!" However, carefully avoiding the tide of students did not mean his arrival went unnoticed. One Minoru Mineta nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of his much taller friend. The sound his foot made on the ground jump starting his heart as he whirled about.

"R-Ritchie?! What the hell man?!"

Ritchie Blackmore glanced around. As always, _Blackfoot_ was deadly accurate. Just across from him stood the still intimidating doors of 1-A. Mineta stood just outside those doors, his uniform a little wrinkled as he stared up at him.

"Mineta-san. Good morning." Ritchie nodded in greeting, happy to see a familiar face even if it was too early for his perverted antics. Maybe he would tone it down this time, at least to give him a break after yesterday.

Speaking of which, Recovery Girl really had come through for him after that trial. If he had left it, he probably would have come to school no better than he intended to leave. His muscles still ached something fierce, especially around his forearms and legs, but at least he could walk without grumbling like an old man.

"Good morning?! Oh no, you don't get to ignore that. You scared the hell out of me!" Mineta cried, garnering a few annoyed looks from the passing students at his obnoxiously loud voice. "Are you going to do that a lot? Just, popping up out of nowhere?"

Ritchie shrugged, scratching at his neck while he blushed from being scolded like this. "Y-Yes...? I'm sorry that I snuck up on you, but this is just how I get around." He did feel bad about scaring Mineta, but it wasn't exactly something he could predict; he appeared where he needed to be, and if somebody happened to be there then they would be in for the shock of their life.

Though that wasn't really an excuse. He could at least make an effort to accommodate his friend, and likely make it easier on the rest of his classmates too- he didn't want to actively be a bother, after all. He should probably stick to transporting to one of the lower floors, and always in the same place- that way anyone who witnesses it can at least get used to it.

"*Sigh…*" Mineta groaned, finally feeling his heart reach a more respectable pace, "Damn. Maybe you should wear a bell so you don't scare anyone else. Hang on… I think I've got one right here actually."

Or, Mineta could suggest something completely ridiculous. That sounded about right.

"Hell no! I'm not wearing a bell like some housecat!" RItchie looked at him aghast, completely taken aback by the suggestion.

"Oh cool your head, Ritchie. I'm just joking." Mineta guffawed as he pulled the bag back on, "You'll never get a girlfriend if you stay this uptight."

Ritchie merely grumbled. Arguing with Mineta could only lead toward madness and a whole lot of wasted time, it was best that he just let him have this little victory. Though, inwardly, he promised he would get back at the pervert someday.

"Why do you even have a bell with you?"

"You never know. You know?" Mineta bunched his eyebrows up a few times.

He was right, he didn't know. And now he didn't want to know.

"By the way… What is that?" Ritchie blinked and followed Mineta's pointed finger down to his legs. His uniform was as average in appearance as it always was, except for the fine grains clinging to the lower hem of his pants and caked along the edges of his uniform shoes.

Ritchie shook a foot, dislodging some of the yellowish grains and sending them scattering across the floor. Somebody was probably going to have to clean that up.

"Oh. Its sand." Mineta merely stared up at him nonplussed, it was obvious that wasn't nearly enough for an explanation, "From, um, a beach. I just came back from Hawaii, so…"

"Wha- Hawaii!? Like, the place with the sand and those funky trees?" It was an awful description, but Ritchie still nodded in affirmation, "You're joking."

Ritchie sighed, "Why do you always assume I'm lying? It's not like its that big of a surprise that I can use my quirk like that." His words immediately made Mineta blush in embarrassment.

"Well, sure, I did. But Hawaii is like a million miles away, and you're telling me you just came from there? I can't wrap my head around it!"

He did understand what Mineta meant. His quirk was a bit of an anomaly in how it worked. The very idea of moving across such massive distances in such a short amount of time was something that couldn't be easily digested. How would it feel to know that your friend had literally just stepped out from the tombs of Antarctica or the sparse plains of Australia mere seconds ago?

Even with all the incredible feats that quirks could pull off, something like _Blackfoot_ was still difficult to comprehend or accept. That's what made it so strong.

"Why the hell were you even in Hawaii in the first place?"

Now that was an easy question, "It's the best place to get breakfast."

Mineta grimaced, glowering at him as he turned to the door. "Figures. The whole world at his fingertips and he uses it to get food."

Yeah well, he could take a guess at what Mineta believed _proper_ use of _Blackfoot_ would be, and it wasn't any more pure. Besides, it was good food! Why go to the cafe down the street for soggy eggs and ham when he could eat authentic exotic meals by traveling basically the same distance!

Anyway… Despite Mineta's prolivication to speak bluntly and without care, it was obvious he didn't really mean anything insulting by his words; so Ritchie didn't let them bother him. In fact, he respected it- to speak your mind freely and say exactly what you thought was an admirable trait. Even if usually the toxic words coming out of his mouth were less than admirable.

The wave of noise cascading from the open classroom door was jarring as always, and the two teens slipped in to the class they were slowly becoming familiar with. Surprisingly enough, once they were inside Mineta did not stick around.

"Alright, see you after class, Ritchie." Mineta gave him a short wave before turning off.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. See you…" Ritchie murmured in confusion, barely returning the wave before Mineta bolted into the class. Making a beeline for a familiar blonde. Aoyama's smile turned strained as Mineta hounded him about something, the noise of the class drowning them out for the most part. For his part, Aoyama did not readily push Mineta aside like most would.

While they obviously weren't close, it was apparent that Mineta had taken an interest in Aoyama. Maybe they had found something in common while Ritchie was gone, or maybe Mineta just saw him as easy prey to pester. It was a little odd to see, but he was glad they at least weren't on negative terms. Antagonistic maybe, but not to the point that Aoyama was unrepentantly annoyed by the shorter teens presence.

But it did leave him with the awkward problem of having no one to speak to and occupy his time; something he never actually considered to be a problem before. Back home, he was perfectly fine being by himself and entertaining himself. There were very few people to speak to, and he never actively went out of his way to initiate conversation. Really, he only really spoke to his family or friends of his family; never truly involving himself with people outside his house.

A week had not even passed, yet still Ritchie found his disposition had changed ever so slightly. Where normally he would be content on his lonesome, he now felt uncomfortable without someone around to talk to. He _enjoyed_ the conversations with the people he had come to know, he began to look forward to seeing his classmates now.

It felt wrong to not have the vain yet thoughtful Aoyama gladly showing off in his theatrical way. It felt wrong to not have Mineta making his snide comments or speaking frankly about his thoughts.

Maybe it was a sign that he was finally changing as a person, the exact thing he wanted all this time. But it was more likely that his new friends helped distract him from countless worries and doubts.

Besides, was it even the kind of change he wanted? Having to rely on other people- depending on them? No. It probably couldn't be any further from what he wanted. He was moving backwards.

"_Great… Leave it to me to mess up so bad on my first week."_ He didn't exactly regret this particular change. He wouldn't hate himself for making friends, and it certainly wasn't something he intended to fix. There was nothing wrong with having friends, but he would have to make sure to work twice as hard so he could become independently strong; he couldn't let himself use them as a crutch.

...Nor could he allow himself to drag them down.

Earlier it wasn't that noticeable a change to his personality, but now with no one to talk to it was a little jarring. It would feel wrong to interrupt Aoyama and Mineta, even if he would be welcomed with open arms. Midoriya wasn't in the class at the moment either, likely running a little late.

Everyone else was a complete stranger. Apart from a few very short exchanged words during yesterday's trial, he knew nothing about them and they didn't seem all that interested in him either.

Some were way too lively for him to be able to feasibly see himself in their group anyway, and others were physically threatening. Like Bakugou. Even with Midoriya's reassurances, he doubted he could ever actually be friends with that guy.

That didn't even begin to cover his reservations about talking to his classmates of a more feminine disposition. He didn't trust himself to reach out and speak to any of them without saying something completely irredeemable.

In such a large class, almost a dozen people with similar aspirations, he only had three people that he was close to and willing to talk to.

Or so he thought, but as his eyes drifted over the sea of faces one perked up when it noticed him. They exchanged short words with the person they were talking to before detaching and moving toward him, to his immense shock.

"Good morning, Blackmore-san." Ojiro greeted him with a genial smile as he moved toward him. He wore his school uniform, his massive tail hanging back behind himself from some special hole sewn into the slacks.

It was strange to see Ojiro so soon, especially after the circumstances last time. Out of his costume and no longer glaring at him with that violent fighting spirit, Masahirao seemed like almost a completely different person. Though, he still shivered internally when his eyes briefly landed on that tail that had caused him so much grief yesterday.

"O-Ojiro-san. Good morning to you." He stuttered, more than a little taken aback from being spoken to by his former opponent.

"I was worried I wouldn't be able to catch you before class began. I'm glad to see you got here alright."

Ritchie coughed slightly, beating down his nerves. "Ah, yeah. I usually wake up pretty late, so…" He paused as he failed to grasp an actual response. Ultimately he decided honesty was the best course of action. "I'm sorry, this is just really strange for me. I'm not sure how to talk to you after…"

To his surprise, Ojiro merely chuckled and smiled as he scratched at his head. "I understand how you feel. It's kind of hard to talk normally after what happened yesterday, isn't it?"

"Please, don't let what happened yesterday make you uneasy. I don't hold any ill will for your victory, or... the means that you secured it." Ojiro rubbed at his chin for a moment before continuing, "In fact, that is what I wanted to speak with you about."

"You wanted to talk about it?" Ritchie tilted his head before leaning onto a nearby desk which he was fairly certain belonged to Koda.

Ojiro nodded, smiling gently as his tail bobbed with the action. "Yes. I only briefly mentioned it yesterday, so I wanted to make sure you understand that I was serious." He explained, crossing his arms in front of his chest conversationally. "I want to fight you again."

He nearly toppled off the desk. Any comfort he got from Ojiro's gentle smile had now firmly fled him.

"Huh?!" He vaguely remembered agreeing to a rematch with the tailed-teen, but it was a vague non-promise at best. "W-what, like right now?!"

"No. I didn't mean right now. I just wanted to talk about it." His words, completely honest and open like his personality, did ease him somewhat. "Blackmore-san… Tell me, have you ever been trained to fight?"

He thought on that for a moment. Sure, he wasn't exactly prepared for such a strange conversation this early in the morning. But the least he could do was take it seriously and give a genuine answer. He owed him that much at least.

"No… I've never been trained to fight. I've never fought a day in my life, in fact. Well, until yesterday, I guess."

Ojiro nodded again, seeming as though he expected that answer. "I thought as much. Your movements during that trial were completely unpredictable. It was sloppy, but for someone like me who's used to fighting experienced people, it was effective."

Ritchie blushed. Sloppy was one way to put it. It was more like he was just mimicking the moves he recalled from those late nights watching action movies.

"...It's a strange thought. I've been training in Judo for years, yet I lost to you. Someone completely new to battle. Its, _humbling_, I suppose..."

"I think you're giving me too much credit. I had my quirk as well, and a time limit on my side. It was hardly a fair match."

"That's exactly why I want to fight again." Ojiro agreed, pushing past that to get to the heart of the matter, "If I want to become a hero, then I have to get much stronger. I _want_ to get stronger. Your unpredictable fighting style and powerful quirk are the perfect way to test myself against difficult odds."

Ritchie crossed his arms and closed his eyes, mulling over the proposition. In a way, he did understand where Ojiro was coming from. Desire for improvement was something he could empathize with implicitly, but would he really be able to help him with this?

More importantly, was he even up to the task of going blow to blow with the tailed-teen again?

Masahirao took note of his hesitation, "I think you're looking at this the wrong way. I'm not asking you to give your all like in that trial. No bad blood, no high stakes or anything like that. No reason to hurt each other for real. I want a _sparring_ match with you."

He didn't recognize the Japanese word, "Sparring…?"

Ojiro smiled fondly, his posture relaxing as his tail drifted off to the opposite side, "You can think of it as a mock match. Back in the dojo I used to go to, we would constantly pair off to spar with each other. It's the best way for two people to improve on their own weaknesses while helping their opponent improve at the same time."

It was also well known as 'Free-form fighting'. A relatively low risk means of engaging in a match with someone on friendly terms. Often it is used as a means to help improve upon personal weaknesses through a simulated fight. Though some martial arts sects better use it to foster a bond between fighters who act as partners. Even still, sparring is a common practice in any reputable dojo in the world.

"I want to improve, Blackmore-san, and I know that you want to as well. Sparring with each other is the best way to do it. So please, fight me again."

He got him. When he asked earnestly like that he couldn't hope to reject the request. Besides, he couldn't say the other teen hadn't piqued his interest. The idea of a low-risk match to better learn how to fight was almost too good to be true. He wouldn't be able to ride the coattails of his quirk forever, Ojiro was quite literally offering to help teach him to actually fight.

There was nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

"...Alright. I'll fight you again, Ojiro." He said, not wavering in the slightest as he met the teen's eyes. This was just another step on the path to change, if he avoided it now it would be no different than giving up.

Ojiro instantly brightened, truly pleased by his answer; something that Ritchie just couldn't understand.

"Thank you, Blackmore-san, you wont regret it. I'll tell you when I'm free for a rematch. I look forward to getting stronger with you." Ojiro stuck his hand out, and Ritchie only momentarily hesitated before firmly taking it.

"Just… Go easy on me? I bruise easily."

With that final word, the massive classroom door groaned open. Even with all the overwhelming noise that Ritchie hadn't even realized he had gotten used to, the creaks and cracks of the hinges rang out. Silence fell, and the two hollow eyes of their homeroom teacher peered into the class through the barest gap in the entryway. Any thought of continuing their conversation evaporated in an instant.

No words needed to be said, everyone scrambled for their seats. Blackmore more so, with the use of his quirk to instantly materialize at his desk. It was a new day, but the fear of their homeroom teacher never changed.

* * *

Not for the first time, Ritchie found himself thanking his quirk. It truly was the most important part of his life, god only knew where he would be without _Blackfoot_.

The class was much the same as it had been the last two days, every single student there; none even daring to miss a single day of the ever lively class. But most of his classmates had an exhausted air about them, as if they had just overcome some great challenge. As it turned out, having to enter the school through the front door was made a monumental task by the bulwark of reporters and tabloid writers that _still_ hounded the students.

Even Aizawa, his seemingly unshakeable homeroom teacher, seemed more tired than usual, if such a thing was even possible. Being able to circumvent the front gate with his quirk was a blessing in disguise.

Though, he would have liked to see the famous 'Yuuei Barrier' in action.

Speaking of his homeroom teacher, class had begun with that same jarring abruptness as the past few days. Aizawa stepping up to the far center podium and leafing through a fairly ominous stack of papers as his eyes roved over the class. In the back of his mind Ritchie did know that Aizawa was a professional hero, and calling the black haired teacher 'intimidating' and 'frightening' was a bit unfair. Its just… after that first day he really couldn't see him any other way.

"I hope some of you managed to get some rest after your battle trials." Aizawa presented the sheaf of papers lazily, "I took the liberty of taking down your marks and evaluation. Lets go over them, shall we?"

"Oh… Great." Mineta whimpered, while a couple of the others that failed the test yesterday flinched. To them it was bad enough that they had lost, but the idea of thoroughly going over them in front of the rest of their peers did not sound fun.

Aizawa pointedly ignored their apprehensiveness and called out to the resident bombshell, who perked up at being addressed, "Bakugou. Stop wasting your talent. Act your age and get yourself together."

Surprisingly enough, Bakugou didn't flare up at the blunt comment as expected. He merely averted his eyes with a coarse frown, "...Right."

"And you-" He jabbed a finger at Midoriya, who jolted so hard he bumped his table with his knee, "Are you planning to destroy your arm all the time? If you keep making excuses for your quirk, you're not going to get anywhere. Hurry up and clear that hurdle already, or get left behind."

Midoriya's face hardened and he nodded vigorously. It was apparent to everyone that this particular issue wasn't one that he had ignored. In fact, to Ritchie it almost looked as though he was on the cusp of a breakthrough.

Had he taken their conversation yesterday to heart? Maybe, but it was impossible to tell. Izuku was a strange guy but ultimately, whether he took his advice or not, he would probably be just fine.

More importantly, it was his turn to get raked over the coals now. He had no idea what to expect, but when it came to Aizawa he was just holding out hope that he wouldn't be scolded too hard.

"Blackmore."

There was a beat. The teacher glanced down to the papers for a moment before staring at him with that unreadable look.

"Good job. You did well."

...

He blinked, and Aizawa looked away to address someone else. That… wasn't exactly what he expected. Then again, he didn't know what he was expecting. Perhaps a reprimand for some mistake he no doubt made, or maybe even a threat to get himself together; but certainly not a commendation. It was so unexpected that the American was left speechless, much like quite a few other students who blinked at the unusual compliment from their teacher.

What were you even supposed to say to someone who nearly had you expelled on a whim? Somehow, 'Thank You' sounded like a very stupid response, so he just kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Minoru," He continued, then paused abruptly. Many students shifted uncomfortably as Aizawa scowled down at his papers, visibly growing annoyed as his fingers creased the paper. "Ugh… Stay after school today."

The short young man sputtered in horror.

"You're not in trouble. You just didn't actually practice working in a team yesterday thanks to some meathead, so that has to be handled today. I'll grab a couple students from class 1-B for you to partner up with and you will retake your trial." Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, "What a pain…"

Mineta definitely didn't like the idea of retaking his trial, but what exactly could he do? Argue? Ritchie sent him a pitying look. It seemed that fighting All Might was completely pointless in the end.

"Now… With that out of the way, lets get on with the homeroom notices. Though, I am sorry that I have to spring something like this on you all." Aizawa gave them a grave look that matched his tone, "All Might didn't think you all were ready yet, but we can't afford to wait any longer.

Blackmore's eyes widened, not at all liking the weight behind those words. Immediately something crawled up his spine, and a cold weight settled audibly in his throat. He wasn't sure if his body and mind could handle another trial, not so soon.

Whatever it was, it was sure to push him to his limits. Some awful, diabolical hurdle that only a depraved sadistic monster like Aizawa could think up.

"We need to pick a class president."

The sound of his head brutally crashing into his desk was drowned out by the loud shouts of incredulity from his classmates.

Like racers exploding from the starting line, hands shot up, all of them vying for a chance to take charge of the class. Even the timid Midoriya sheepishly raised a hand, which did more than enough to describe just how important they thought this position was.

Students in any other class outside of this school would likely see the proposition as a hassle; more work than they really cared for on top of an already packed school schedule. But these hero-hopefuls were the exact opposite; the responsibility was enticing, beckoning. Whatever their reasons for being here, all of them desired the chance to prove themselves or show off their strengths, and what better way to do that than to take charge of the class?

The only one who remained sitting and didn't raise a hand was Blackmore, who rested his chin on his palm and looked over the loud class. As interesting as the position sounded, he wasn't at all invested in taking it. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that a president needed to be strong, have strong leadership skills, and be charismatic; traits that he lacked completely.

That didn't even cover the heavy responsibilities that no doubt came with the rank. Responsibilities that he wasn't even remotely ready to shoulder. Class president simply wasn't a fit for him yet, maybe ever, so he kept quiet.

At least he would have if Aoyama hadn't accosted him from the side and forcibly grabbed his wrist to raise it sky high; nearly dragging him out of his seat with a startled yelp. He struggled half-heartedly, but the brightly sparkling boy was relentless as he waved his limp arm to make sure it was seen amongst the many other raised hands.

"Come now, Blackmore-chan! This is the eve of our youth, we cannot let this chance pass us by! Think of the fame! The popularity!"

"I think you have no idea what a class president is… And i'm not interested in any of that!" He barked back, as he tried to pull his wrist free. Aoyama merely crowed '_Nonsense!' _and renewed his efforts.

"Be quiet!" a voice silenced them all.

All eyes turned to the deadly serious Iida who regarded them from behind his glasses, his sharp eyes lined with intensity. "This is a task laden with responsibility where you must carry and pull everyone's weight! I reiterate: _Responsibility!_ Just because you'd like to, doesn't mean you can!"

"A class president must have the esteem and trust of his peers, as such there is only one possible way to elect a viable candidate. Democratically!"

"Democratically? What, like voting?" Kaminari piped up.

"Precisely!"

Ritchie hummed at that before stepping forward.

"I agree." Immediately he winced when all eyes locked onto him, but ignored that cloying uncomfortableness, "If you're gonna choose a president, voting is the only right way to do it."

Iida immediately brightened, pleased at the support. Tsuyu just behind him croaked some sort of a noise, "I guess its okay then. Blackmore-san is an American after all, so he's the expert here."

"Well now, I wouldn't say expert…" A president had to reflect the will of the people, and the only way to truly do that is if they were selected _by_ the people. It was common knowledge for goodness sake.

Kirishima stepped up next, not looking quite so convinced when he glanced doubtful at Iida, "We haven't even been here for a week though. It's still _way_ too early to have developed any trust in each other."

"That is fine!" Iida chopped his hands to the side, and Kaminari ducked hastiloy to avoid decapitation, "In that case whoever earns the majority of votes will truly be deserving of the position, no?"

All dissent quieted down. Nobody could really find a way to refute that, so they just exchanged glances as they mulled over the prospect.

Seeing no further arguments, Blackmore spoke again, "Well… If this is how we're gonna do it I can set up a few polls to get this running right. I can handle that much at least."

As he said that he pointed a thumb toward the blackboard at the end of the room, only to belatedly realize he was pointing directly at a glaring homeroom teacher. He stilled, veins going cold as he and the rest of the class realized that Aizawa was still there and had indeed not vanished.

"I-if that okay…?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes and slumped down, his hands pulling up a bright yellow sleeping bag that he instantly swaddled himself up in. He dropped to the ground with a muted 'thump' already stretching out to relax. "I don't care how you do it, just get it figured out before homeroom ends... Or else."

Sweat fell all around. Even Iida seemed a little put-off, though he shook it off far quicker than the rest. "Well then, Blackmore-san. I leave this to your capable hands. Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem. I'm happy to help."

* * *

To maintain the fairness of the polls, Ritchie valiantly chose to remain out of the running- an inconsequential consequence to being the moderator. Instead he had been appointed chief of handling and tallying the votes; all the students writing down their decisions on slips of paper he had hastily ripped up. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his star spangled ballot boxes, so he was left with piles of paper slips to sort through when they finished.

As per his suggestion, votes were made on a two tally basis. Each student was capable of voting twice, once for themselves if they chose, and once for another classmate. Though if they wanted to they could decide not to vote for themselves and instead use both their votes on other students.

It was a simple solution to a couple logistical problems with such a small scale election. Iida gave him far too much praise for it though, and he was left with red ears as he sifted through and sorted the notes; the eager ongoing conversations of his classmates a good backdrop to the work.

"Are you certain you have no interest in being class president, Blackmore-chan?"

Ritchie glanced over at Aoyama before focusing back on the slips. "Yup. I'm not really cut out for it. Besides, it would be a little suspicious if I was running _and_ counting votes." Huh… Somebody wrote a negative vote for Mineta. Was that even allowed?

"Thats a shame... I really think you would stand a good chance at winning this election if you ran."

Ritchie chuckled as if he had heard a good joke at a pub, "Hah, yeah I doubt that."

"Well I would vote for you…" Aoyama humphed, crossing his arms at his friends dismissiveness. But Ritchie didn't hear him, already standing up with the tallied votes and crossing over to the board. The class quieted down at the movement and watched rapt as he began to slice strikes next to names with the chalk.

Ritchie fairly calloused hands moved quickly, simple tally marks appearing under his fingers as chalk dust drifted lazily down to the ground. Within moments, the board was filled out; a single final line being drawn as the chalk chipped in half.

He stepped back, admiring his work as he dusted his hands off.

"W-why do I have so many votes?!" Midoriya cried out, appalled at how far ahead he was in votes.

"Why do I not have _any_ votes?!" He could guess who said that.

In order of leading votes, the class was as follows: Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Iida, Ojiro, Bakugou, Ochako… The rest stayed at a cool one vote, or, in Mineta's case, zero.

It came as no surprise to Ritchie that Yaoyorozu had pulled through with so many votes. Everyone knew how scarily smart she was, and she was strong to boot. If you asked him, she was pretty much born for the position. If he had been voting with them, he likely would have put both his votes toward her.

What really took him by surprise was Midoriya's lead on the competition. He did expect the guy to get a few votes, but he didn't expect him to pull so far ahead. Midoriya was timid and very soft-spoken, with very little to make him really stand out. All the traits that Ritchie figured a president would need to have, Midoriya lacked.

Though, he was also thoughtful and had a knack for heroics if his notebook was anything to go off of. So that at least leveled it out somewhat, but it was still hard to believe.

Whatever the case, this was the will of the people. The decision had been made.

Sero winced in shock as Iida collapsed to his knees, shame cascading off him in waves. "Only two votes… I see, after all I did insist on the sanctity of the role..."

"Come on Iida… You didn't even vote for yourself…" Sero sighed, kneading his forehead as he watched the bespectacled teen sulk.

Eventually, the class settled down. Everyone returned to their seats, while a trembling Midoriya was pushed to stand next to a marginally content Yaoyorozu. His chattering teeth and bulging eyes did nothing to reassure the now worried Ritchie, who could only watch on; like an onlooker at the edge of a ten-car pile up on the interstate during Christmas Eve rush.

Aizawa unfurled himself from his sack lethargically. "So then, with these votes… Midoriya will be Class President, and Yaoyorozu will serve as Vice-President. Clap."

Ritchie gave his own light applause with the rest of the class. It wasn't looking good now, but hopefully Midoriya would grow into his role. If anybody could handle the responsibility of the job, Midoriya might be able to fit that role. Besides, he really didn't want to see how hectic an impeachment in this class would be.

* * *

With the urgent matters taken care of, and a couple lessons handled, lunch rolled around. Ritchie sidled into the vast room, taking care not to bump into any other students while also protecting the important bag in his hands. When the tide eased up, he raised the bag and stared admiringly at it.

On today's menu: Red Snapper, freshly caught and prepared in Okinawa. It wasn't exactly a meal that you could attain anywhere nearby, certainly not at this level of quality; but that couldn't stop him.

Maybe it was an abuse of his power. More than maybe; it was. But he really couldn't help himself. Ritchie held no shame in allowing himself this one guilty pleasure. It's not like it hurt anyone.

He lowered the bag and hurried to the side of the cafeteria carved out by his class, shielding the warm cargo as he plopped himself down at one of the few empty tables. The bag clanked onto the table, steam visibly rising from the top as Ritchie leaned back. As much as he marveled at the sheer amount of people here, at his core Ritchie was still a bit of a loner; having so many people around at all times put him on edge. It was a stroke of luck that around this time there were a few tables left unfilled.

Before he touched it again, the American made sure to shed the coat of his school uniform; draping it over the chair next to him with practiced movements. Then, he rolled up his shirt sleeves with quick pulls to reveal his pale thin arms. An insignificant ritual, but one he adhered to nonetheless for every meal he sat down for.

Unwilling to wait any longer, the black-haired teen pulled out his food and popped it open- only to wave away a puff of fragrant steam. The food looked just as good as it was 20 seconds ago, almost like he was eating at the top of a twenty story restaurant instead of in a school cafeteria. Admittedly, an impressive cafeteria, but a cafeteria regardless.

The simple things in life truly were precious to the simple man.

"W-Woah! What the heck is that Blackmore?!"

Ritchie Blackmore glanced up, and promptly reeled back in shock when he saw no one there. That mystification only lasted a moment until he noticed the seemingly floating set of clothing that hovered over the other end of the table with energetic fervor.

An invisible person, to be precise. Tooru Hagakure, the invisible girl who shared class 1-A with him.

He stuttered in confusion, shocked by suddenly being blasted straight out of his reviere. He gave some sort of garbled answer, but it was completely incomprehensible.

"Tooru-san please don't be a nuisance…" Ojiro appeared next, shooting Hagakure a disapproving glare as he approached the seat directly across from Ritchie.

"I'm not! Just look at that! Is that a fish?! Where the heck did you even get that? I didn't see lunch rush serving anything like it!"

Ritchie shook off his confusion, watching as his two classmates took their seats across from him. "I, uh, I didn't get it here. I got it from somewhere else."

It was completely impossible to tell how Tooru reacted to that due to her lack of facial expression, and that really threw him for a loop. It would take a long time to get used to talking to someone you couldn't actually see. Time that she had no intention of giving him.

"Somewhere else?" Her sleeve shifted up underneath where he assumed her head was, "Like where? I dont think theres anywhere nearby you can get too that fast though…"

Ojiro sighed as he began to split his own meal into quarters with his chopsticks, "Tooru-san… Dont you remember what he said about his quirk?"

There was a pause, then a smacking noise as Tooru's clothes straightened up. "Oh! Now I see! Oh man, that's so cool Blackmore!"

"T-thanks?" Ritchie hummed awkwardly as he took up his fork and took a bite of his food. Yes, it was just as good as it looked. He smiled contentedly and took another bite. As he did, he took a glance up at his company.

Again, Ojiro had sought him out of his own volition. Just what kind of image did the tailed-teen have of him that he would be willing to spend his lunch with him? Then there was Hagakure, another person that he had never spoken a word to before. Her presence seemed due in part to Ojiro, the two seeming to be good enough friends to sit together at lunch. He didn't know what to think of her, but she seemed almost eager to talk to him.

And… She was staring at him. He couldn't see her or her eyes, but he could feel the invisible girl watching his every move. He hazarded a guess at what she was thinking.

"...Would you like some?"

"Well~ If you're offering!" Tooru thrust her plate forward, eagerness clear in her every movement.

Ritchie chuckled and picked his plate up to separate some halves of his steaming fish to give to the ecstatic girl. In the end, he was thinking too hard on things again. They were just students like he was. There was no greater meaning to them sitting with him; it was just people passing the time.

"You shouldn't indulge her, Blackmore-san. She will only get worse." Ojiro grunted with exasperation.

"Hah, I don't mind. I've got a little too much anyway." He didn't have that deep of a stomach, so it was more of a blessing to part with some of the meal in the end. Besides, he didn't mind sharing some of his food with a cute girl. At least he assumed she was cute. She definitely had a cute voice.

On a less perverted or underhanded note, this was simply how his father raised him. One good turn deserves another, and acts of charity rarely went unrewarded. It was basically ingrained in his mind to split the bread, so to speak.

"Mm~ So good~!" The foreign teen watched with no small amazement as the shared food began to rapidly disappear.

Was it rude to stare at an invisible person? This was his first time really witnessing such a quirk, so he couldn't help the keen interest he had in watching her. Was it difficult to live like that? Or did the pros outweigh the cons?

The three wasted no more time and dug into their food. Around them, the loud and eager chatter proved to be an almost relaxing backdrop. Ritchie himself was lost in watching some white-haired student from one of the other classes eagerly discuss something with a wide circle of people. It was so unlike his home, almost like an entirely different planet.

Barely even a week in yet, and Blackmore already found himself being assimilated. It should have worried him how used to this he was, and yet… He didn't exactly dislike the feeling. The feeling of fitting in, of belonging.

"You know, I'm a bit surprised at how flexible your quirk is, Blackmore-san." Ojiro said conversationally as he held his chopsticks between his teeth and cracked open a can of sweet tea, "I figured that your quirk would have some sort of drawback if you used it too often, but it seems I was wrong."

"Nah, nothing like that. Actually, back home it's pretty rare for a quirk to have drawbacks from repeated use. That kinda problem is more common around here than America… Blackfoot has no negative side-effects for me."

"Ahah! That's so cute!"

Ritchie blinked and looked over at Tooru with a completely stupefied expression. "W-What?"

"That name! I've never heard of somebody naming their quirk like that! "_Blackfoot_"... I think its really cute!" Her arms waved as she explained.

His quirk had never been called cute before, and he felt he was justified in the scarlet tinge to his cheeks.

"Huh, Now that you mention it, I do find it strange that you named your quirk. I didn't pay it any attention during our match, but it was peculiar how you referred to it." Ojiro nodded to Tooru, suddenly very interested in the conversation. "Why _does _ your quirk have a name?"

Ritchie leaned back with a drop of worried sweat, thoroughly put off by Ojiro and Tooru's interest. Was he really going to have to explain this again?

The floating set of clothes moved closer, making it obvious that Tooru was leaning in like a kid preparing to hear a bedtime story.

Yes. Yes he was.

…

…

"So…" Tooru began through a mouth filled with rice, "What you're saying is it unlocks the hidden potential of your quirk?"

"No. That's not what i'm saying at all." Ritchie sighed, his patience wearing thin as the girl giggled madly.

Ojiro was more thoughtful as he digested his words. "Trusting your quirk… I'll admit, I've never thought of it that way. But I can see the logic in it."

Describing it again was easier than last time now that he knew roughly how to go about it. Though, he was careful to omit some of the more intimate parts of yesterday's impromptu lecture to Midoriya. Such as the rather embarrassing tale of how he named his quirk.

"Oh man! Now I want to do it too! It sounds like so much fun!" Tooru was absolutely jubilant as she bounced up in her seat, "Hey, Ritchie! Since you're the expert on this, what should I name my quirk?"

To her surprise, he instantly shook his head. "No. I can't name it for you. The whole point of doing it is that it makes a personal connection with your quirk. It won't exactly be personal if you don't choose the name yourself."

"Ah, boo!"

Ojiro smiled victoriously, "Serves you right, Tooru-san. There's no short-cuts for this. You'll have to figure it out yourself."

"Big talk! How about you name your quirk then?!" Hagakure glared right back, possibly pouting. As he watched, Ritchie was amazed by how expressive she could be with only the gestures her clothing made. Was it purposeful? Or did living like that her whole life just make it a natural action?

The tail-teen raised a brow, "I don't need to name my quirk, I already trust it completely. It would be redundant."

Tooru didn't let that slow her down. "Oh sure, sure. But you lost to Ritchie didn't you?"

Ritchie looked anywhere else with wide eyes, suddenly feeling very awkward to be used as a tool in a conversation of his own making.

He sputtered, "Wha- You-!"

"So don't act all high and mighty! You obviously still have room for improvement! Name. Your. Quirk!" She cheerfully sang as she poked the dumbfounded judo disciples cheek.

"Alright, alright! I'll do it!"

Was this his fault? He really didn't expect such a bubbly girl like Tooru to be so dang vindictive. He sent a silent apology to Ojiro with a promise to himself to never get on the invisible girls bad side.

A few long moments passed as Ojiro mulled over a few ideas in his head. But by the sweat trailing down his neck and his fidgety hands, he was not having much success. When a minute passed, Ritchie seriously thought he would have to step in and call Recovery Girl, or do anything to save Ojiro from this situation.

Then he spoke, his voice low with trepidation, "How about… Tail sword?"

"..."

"..."

"Say something!" Ojiro slapped the table, glaring between Ritchie who was shielding his expression, and Tooru who had likely wrapped a hand around her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"*Snrk* It's so bad…" Tooru barely giggled out, trembling with barely restrained laughter.

"Ah… It's definitely… Unique?" Even though he said that, Ritchie still did not reveal his face.

"You two put me on the spot! Of course I can't think of a name that quickly!"

"Don't worry Ojiro…" Hagakure chortled, patting his shoulder. "No one can blame you for lacking a creative bone. There there…" She patted his head, forcing a scalding blush into his cheeks.

Ojiro pouted, and it was probably the strangest sight Blackmore had ever seen. "Grr… Alright, that's enough. I did my part, now it's your turn. Name your quirk."

"With pleasure!"

Once he was sure that his face wouldn't give away anything, Ritchie pulled his hand away and looked over toward the pondering girl. "You know you don't _have_ to name your quirk, right? There's really no proof that it will actually help you get stronger or anything like that."

"I know! But I'm too interested now. I really want to have a cute name that I can refer to my quirk with, It'll make this hero training even more fun than it already is!"

Ritchie found himself sorely impressed with how taken Tooru was with the idea. She really did seem taken to the idea. So taken that it didn't take long for her to come up with an idea.

"How about this: **Heart!**"

Ritchie tilted his head as he tested the name, finding himself momentarily taken aback by the energy she emitted, "_Heart?"_

"Yep!" Tooru crossed her arms under her bust, probably grinning imperiously, "That feels so right. From now on my quirk will be known as _Heart_!"

Ojiro looked at her with a no small amount of surprise, probably expecting her to come up with something just as ridiculous as he had. The fact that she had actually taken it seriously shocked him. "That… Actually isn't that bad. Color me impressed."

Ritchie figured that she stuck her tongue out at him for that comment, "Bleh! You have no faith in me, tail sword!"

"Oh please…" Hagakure only giggled at his expense.

Ritchie didn't say it, but he too found the name fitting in a miraculous way. It didn't exactly have anything to do with her quirk, but it didn't have to. Chosen names were just that; a denomination that the quirk user chooses on a whim. Not because it fit, but because it felt right to them. He himself had seen many a quirk back home that had a name that didn't fit the quirk type at all.

Though there was also the problem of actually putting such a name to use. It was a good name, but with a quirk better suited to subterfuge and stealth, she couldn't exactly shout it out whenever she wanted.

At least, he really hoped she wouldn't; then whatever happened would be _his_ fault. Chances are, the name would simply go unused, and this whole conversation meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Ritchie gave a small smile as he watched Hagakure type away at something on her phone, humming a jaunty tune all the while. Whatever the case, she looked happy, so he supposed it was worth it in the end. Eventually the conversation shifted away from that matter, but her elation never subsided.

"By the way… Blackmore-san, is it true that Iida didn't vote for himself?"

"Hrmm?" Ritchie hiccupped, glancing over to Ojiro before awkwardly coughing and smothering the blood rushing up to his ears. Had he been staring again? "Oh, you mean during the election?"

Well… It was a simple matter for him to recall the many ballots he sorted through. He couldn't exactly put names to faces just yet, but he could at least recall who most people were interested in voting for. Now that he thought back to it, there was something that had stuck out as strange to him.

"Huh… Now that you mention it, Iida did put both his votes to somebody else. With how eager he was about the whole thing… It kinda took me by surprise."

Ojiro sighed solemnly, glancing back toward the table where IIda, Midoriya, and Ochako were sitting. "I'm not all that surprised that Midoriya won, he's the one that made friends the quickest out of all of us. But I still can't help but feel bad for Iida. This election meant a lot to him."

"How do you mean?"

"Well…" He paused, a thoughtful expression donning his face. Instead of actually seeming to think on the matter, it seemed he was questioning whether it was his place to gossip on it or not. It was a bit of a grey area; talking about it wouldn't really hurt anyone, but it still could be considered a small breach of privacy.

In the end, he decided that if he could trust anyone with the information, it would probably be the reserved transfer student. And maybe by extension the invisible eavesdropper beside him, but she was such a gossip hound that he doubted she didn't already know.

"I think the problem is that Iida is from one of those upper-crust families."

"Uh… Families?" Question marks were almost visible popping up from Ritchie's head, the terminology flying straight over his head. "What, like the mafia?"

"N-no… An upper-crust family is a family that has had generations of descendants that have been in heroics. Big names like Todoroki Enji, whose father was a hero before him are an example. Iida is part of a family like that."

Generational heroes… He would admit, the idea had never crossed his mind. Passing down heroism like a family trade was a bit of a surreal notion, but in Japan there was actually a common term for it. What would that kind of family even look like?

Tooru piped in, sharing her own two cents as soon as she caught wind of the brewing gossip, "If I remember what Yaoyorozu-chan said correctly, then Iida is the second son of one of those families. Practically celebrities!"

That word caught in his mind, immediately grabbing his attention. "Second son?"

"That's right. The great 'Turbo Hero Ingenium' is Iida big brother, apparently. Though…" Ojiro paused when he noticed the confusion return to Ritchie's face, "I guess it's not that big of a surprise you haven't heard of him. Even the best heroes can get drowned out by All Might these days."

The pieces began to fall into place. He may not know much about heroes, but he could see the writing on the wall now. Having such a famous brother must come with quite a lot of expectation to live up to. Shoes to fill, and images to keep. Iida was the next in line for heroism in his family, and he was desperate to prove himself. And what better way than to take a leadership position on the first week of a hero school?

Aspiring to be a hero like his brother… Wanting to live up to that name… It was something he could really admire. Iida really did seem completely devoted to heroism, despite the rigid air he constantly gave off. It just goes to show how little appearances really mattered.

Huh… His mood just dropped. Like the shallow dip of a rollercoaster, he found his energy waning and his face taking on a more pensive look. It was an intriguing conversation, and had shed a lot of light on the companions he would keep for the next four years. Yet… It dug at him still. Pulling forth many things that he wasn't ready to face yet. Or to remember.

Iida had direction. Something that he completely lacked. Iida's reason for being here was clear-cut; living up to his family name. An impressive goal, and if he were to guess he would say that the rest of Class 1-A had similar reasons for being here. Whether it was a desire to follow in the footsteps of All Might, to make money for their family, or simply to achieve their dreams; they had direction.

So very unlike his own selfish reasons.

Changing himself… What did that even matter? Everyone else, they were trying their hardest to actually become heroes or live up to their potential. This hero school was the key to their careers, the culmination of an entire lifetime of yearning. And to him it was just… a means to an end.

It made him sick to his stomach. All he was here for was to become less of a waste of space, to fix the shortcomings that were his own damn fault; a goal that may not even be achieved because of his weak resolve. He didn't even have the intention to become a hero at all. Just him being here was an insult to all of their dreams.

And then of course there was…

His hand unconsciously tightened on the table. No. He didn't want to think about that. Not now.

"Hey… Ritchie. Are you okay…?"

Ritchie blinked and looked up, only now realizing that he had been silent for the past minute. Ojiro was giving him a clearly worried look, glancing between his fingers that were still tightly pressed into the table and his face. He quickly ripped his hand away from the table. Internally he panicked, and his mouth worked to formulate some kind of excuse for drifting off.

Before he could speak, the single loudest screeching noise he had ever heard assaulted his eardrums. A blaring wail, that roared out across the school- stopping everyone in their tracks. It was so loud that Ritchie was forced to cover his ears, his wide terrified eyes glancing between the equally shocked faces scattered around the room.

"_**Security Level 3 Has Been Breached. Students, Please Promptly Evacuate."**_

That was when all hell broke loose.

* * *

**Elsewhere…**

…

…

["So… This is one of those Japanese bathhouses, huh?"]

The man scratched at the stubble along his neck, his expression vaguely annoyed as he squinted irritably through the sun that cut just right through the towering building nearby to strike his eyes. His day had been a long one so far, and as his nose scrunched up at the nauseating scent of nearby trash that seemed commonplace in this decrepit corner of the city, he realized it could only get longer.

Though, that wasn't to say it was all bad. While the surrounding were less than pretty, there was a certain quality to the air that he just couldn't get enough of. Back home, the city air was so thick with pollution and rot that within a week your nose would numb. Here, there was still that unmistakable claustrophobic feel of a dense city, yet it also felt more… natural, he supposed. He could actually feel the warmth of the season dance on his skin from the gentle gouts of wind rolling past the buildings, and the air was fresh enough to quench thirst.

Sequestered somewhere in the bowels of the city, the bathhouse was a quaint piece of work. A large enough tan-bricked building nestled into a corner of a couple avenues; where only one bus line even passed through. It looked cheap, but also welcoming in a strange way. Like looking at an old arcade that had been in your hometown for years.

["Can't believe it took me an hour to find this place... "] The man groused as he tugged his black jacket on further, brushing aside the hanging curtains and stepping into the building. Inside was even better than outside; well maintained and with an obvious amount of effort put into keeping it pretty. He didn't really care for the place, it was just another dime-a-dozen attempt to pull in suckers for revenue, but he could at least respect that. Anyone who couldn't put in the token effort to clean their own place, didn't deserve to own a business.

As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lights of the bathhouse, he noticed the reception area was suspiciously unmanned. There were a couple people milling about in towels, lounging after a dip in the sauna and chatting amicably, but no sign of an employee. Unsurprising, he couldn't imagine this place got all that much foot traffic. There wasn't much to the room, save for a couple lockers, benches, and a wide mirror along the wall.

He took the opportunity to look over his appearance, hoping that he had not lost anything in that godless subway car. It would be a cold day in hell before he got into another one of those sardine cans.

His midnight black hair was ruffled out of its usual side-part, but it was nothing a bit of spit and messing about couldn't fix. His black jacket fit nicely onto his toned body over his loose neck long sleeve, and complimented his red jeans and shoes well. Truly, the oddest part of the man's attire was the myriad of zippers spanning through his pant's legs, giving him a more intriguing look.

As always, he was devilishly handsome. Now, if only he were on that hot date that he had to cancel. This whole situation was a spur of the moment thing, the change to the job getting emailed to him so abruptly that he had to drop everything. Sudden changes to the jobs, especially so late into preparations, was not natural. This could not wait.

He wanted answers, now.

He spun on his foot and marched past the reception desk. The people sent him curious and worried looks, but he ignored them as he stomped toward the wooden door pressed into the far wall of the room. It opened smoothly, and a wave of heat rolled out the door with even more steam, causing him to grimace harder. Even still, he steeled himself and stepped in; the door clanking shut behind him.

It was hot. Which, was to be expected of a sauna, but still. Immediately, he tugged his jacket off and tossed it onto the nearby marble sink counters; giving the wood furnished room a cursory glance over. It was homely, a comforting place where he could see himself relaxing on an off-day of work.

An older salaryman walked by, various toiletries in hand. Obviously, the man was just as exhausted after a long day of work and wanted to ease his muscles in the intoxicating steam of the sauna. Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day.

["Hey, you. Get outta here!"]

The man paused and glanced over to him, sheer confusion on his face. "I'm sorry…?"

He cursed, momentarily forgetting himself. He cleared his throat, "I said… The saunas closed. You need to leave. Now."

"B-but… The sauna is open for the rest of the day…"

"Change of plans. Horrible rat infestation, no one allowed in here while I clear it out. You understand don't you?"

The man wavered, not convinced but still beginning to shrink in on himself. "B-but…"

The much taller and stronger man stepped forward, his hand reached up and his fingers audibly clamped down on the crown of his balding head. "My eyesight isn't all that great, you know? It would be a mighty shame if I mistook you for a rat. You understand…" His fingers briefly tightened down harshly before loosening up, "_Don't you?_"

The man wordlessly nodded, his expression utterly horrified. He let the old bastard run off, an amused chuckle leaving his mouth as he watched him hastily throw the door closed behind him.

"Never gets old…"

Now, it was time for business. With a heavy kick, he sent one of the wooden benches toppling over into the door; wedging it closed. Taking only a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, the handsome man turned and began to approach the deeper section of the sauna.

The walls narrowed. Open space turned into tight corridors as he stepped down the stuffy room. With every step, the heat and steam only grew all the more unbearable. By now, the steam was so thick that he had trouble seeing within a few feet of himself. The deeper he went, the higher the temperature climbed; until he found himself openly perspiring and sucking in air through grit teeth.

He stopped at another unmarked door, and when he opened this one the steam slammed into him hard. Pounds of steam and heat locked into a secluded room finally given release washed over him, and he coughed as he pushed through and entered the room. God… it was like being cooked alive. How could anyone possibly stand this?

"Shut that door behind you. Don't let the heat out…"

The strong voice from the end of the small dimly lit room made him flinch, but he still grudgingly obeyed and sealed the room up again- almost immediately the air began to thicken again, the vapor slowly rebuilding itself. Taking up the middle of the room was a basin full of piping hot stones, the steam rising up from them visibly coalescing along the ceiling. At the walls were smooth wooden benches, and there, at the back of the room, calmly relaxing in the unbearable atmosphere like it was nothing- was the man he was looking for.

With all the steam, heat, and general darkness of the room; he couldn't make him out very well; the clouds obscured his vision, turning the man into a hazy mirage of an image. Like staring at a distant shape peeking over the dunes of a desert. Apart from the vague image of a truly foreboding form, lithe with muscle and untapped ferocity, it was impossible to make him out. But that voice could not belong to anyone else.

"Agon. This… is not my idea of a professional meeting."

Agon, the man with the overwhelming presence, didn't respond to that. His form merely loomed forward like some great leviathan. The man wasn't massive in size like he had seen size-altering quirks achieve, but his simple presence made him loom over that side of the room like a monster from nightmares. His presence many times larger than any person could hope to be.

Fingers worn through years of combat, covered in calluses and scars, landed in the basin of boiling hot stones. Without even flinching from the heat, Agon plucked a stone from the collection and held it aloft.

Though he couldn't see them, he just knew that Agon's eyes were locked on his. He wouldn't be cowed though. If he showed even a moment of weakness, he could well and truly die here. He wasn't going into this half-cocked, he knew just what kind of man he was dealing with; the kind that breathed death.

"Patch… What are you doing here."

The midnight haired man, now known as Patch, wiped the sweat from his skin again. "You know why I'm here. The job. I want to know what the hell is going on."

"Oh yes. That."

"Don't you brush this off!" Patch roared, pointing his finger at Agon and stepping up closer, immediately losing sight of the caution he had before. "You have one of the most important roles for this job, and you step out?! What the hell happened?"

"..." Agon didn't answer. He merely pressed the stone back into the basin, leaving it to clatter loudly to the bottom of the pan. He knew exactly what that silence meant. Agon didn't feel the need to answer him- he didn't do anything unless he wanted to.

But he couldn't just let this go. "Goddamnit! This plan has been in the works for a week now and you're just cutting?! What the hell am I supposed to tell Tomura?"

The man hidden in steam and smoke clicked his teeth, annoyed at his former partners hounding. Like a tiger twitching its eye to ward off a particularly meddlesome gnat. "I dont give a shit what you tell him. We may be working for them, but that brat isn't my boss. I don't take orders from him, and I sure as shit dont do his dirty work."

"What is your problem, Agon? I thought this is what we do. You didn't have a problem with it before. What aren't you telling me?"

Agon growled low and gutterly, now openly glaring at Patch with fury that rolled off him in waves that trumped the steam. "You're awfully comfortable talking to me how you please. You better watch how you speak to me, boy."

Patch flinched and grimaced, looking down and away. He may work with Agon, but even he knew not to push his luck. _Nobody _crossed him and lived. It was a miracle that the man hadn't beaten him to a pulp just yet. Patch was confident in his own quirk, but nobody could match Agon for pure fighting talent.

Agon glared at him for a moment longer before relenting, his toned body reclining back into the bench as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You may not understand, Patch, but I have my own reasons. This has gotten bigger than just being grunts on a job, or being mercenaries. I have my own goals here, and this petty grudge of Tomura's doesn't line up with them."

"Goals? What are you talking about? Did the boss change the plans?"

"No. I haven't gotten into contact with the boss since we got here."

Patch started, glaring incredulously at the hazy image of a terrifying man. "W-wha- then what are you-?!"

Burning amber eyes peered out through the fog, silencing him. "Listen up, because I will not repeat myself. There's a reason that I am the Boss' right hand." Agon leered at him, every word shaking Patch to his core with the sheer weight behind them, "Its because he and I share the same goals. Its because he trusts me completely to do everything I can to achieve those goals. I have complete autonomy here. My choices are no different than the ones he would make."

Patch threw an arm to the side, "But this is asinine! You're stepping out of an easy job! Hell, this could line our pockets and keep us in work for years!"

"Unlike you, I'm looking at the bigger picture. There are consequences to everything, and the curse of being in charge of you morons is that I have to decide what risks are worth it. Besides, I have more important tasks to see to than wasting my time killing children. Thats beneath me."

"I don't know what their end goal is yet or what they think they're accomplishing, but I refuse to be a pawn of whoever Tomura works for."

"Works for? What are you…"

"Don't be an idiot. Do you seriously think that childish brat is capable of rearing that team by himself? Of course he has help." Agon's voice was patronizing, his words cutting deep as he poured another cup full of water over the hot stones. "And if I'm right then I know exactly who it is."

Patch ground his teeth, unable to come up with a response to that. Agon was stepping out of the job because he saw it as a pointless risk and a waste of his time. In some ways, he could understand. They would be stepping right into the heart of the sole keepers of justice for Japan; even going so far as to make public enemies of themselves if they weren't careful. It was a monumental task with very little pay-off outside of the cash, but nothing they couldn't handle either. Nothing they hadn't already done.

But now Agon wouldn't take part. It was obvious that it grated on him to be ordered around by Tomura or some mystery man behind a screen, but he never thought he would take it this far. Just what was he thinking?

"...Fine." He bit out, hating that he knew he couldn't challenge him on this, "But I'm not quitting this. The job is happening with or without you. Everyone else will feel the same way too."

Agon humphed, waving a hand carelessly, Patch caught the barest glimpse of the shifting of hair. "Do as you please. I'm not your goddamn 'pa'. It's not my job to take care of you."

"Dammit Agon… They paid for a certain number of people! Who the hell am I going to take with us now?"

"How is that my problem? Figure it out yourself."

Ugh… This bastard really knew how to get on his nerves. If he was going to leave him high and dry either way, the least he could do was help him out. "I'll take M with me then. He hasn't stretched his legs in awhile, and I think he'll be a good replacement for you. _Especially_ for that role."

His heart dropped when Agon shook his head, grunting in his own shade of annoyance. "M isnt here."

"Isn't here… The hell do you mean?! I thought he came over with us! Where the hell did he go?"

Agon sighed, kneading his forehead. "He was supposed to come with us. But just before we could leave he had another episode. We had to leave him behind."

Oh. Oh that was bad. The only person he knew that could possibly match Agon for sheer bloodthirsty strength was M. The power of those two alone was simply unbelievable, and it was a wonder that they could work under _anyone_. That wasn't to say the others were weak, far from it; they were all incredibly strong in their own rights, but they just couldn't hope to compare to the top dogs.

It came as no surprise that he felt a whole lot better on job's when he had terrifyingly strong people like Agon or M to back him up. But now neither of them could help?

"T-the hell?! That bastard! Who the hell am I going to take now?!"

"Last I heard Clemont was free. Take him along if you're so scared for your life."

Patch paused. Clemont eh… He supposed that was an option. "I guess… But… I don't really like that guy." Clemont was a fine fighter, and seemed trustworthy enough, but he was way too level headed. The guy barely reacted to anything. Just being near that guy felt like stepping into a tibetan monk temple.

"I don't care. Figure it out, because this is not my problem anymore. And if you come in here demanding shit of me again, we are gonna have a serious problem. Got that?"

"Got it…" It looked like Clemont was his only option. It was a shame, but he would have to cope.

No, the worst part was that he couldn't rely on Clemont to fill Agon's role. He may be strong in his own way, but he didn't trust him to be able to handle that particular task. Due to his seniority and strength, it would be up to Patch to handle Agon's role for this job; and Clemont would fill in his own spot.

It was a little daunting. He was confident in his own strength, but it was paltry compared to Agon's. But on the other hand, he knew he could handle it. In fact, of the six other men included on this job now, he was likely the only one who could possibly handle it.

Powerful or not, with god as his witness, All Might would fall to his quirk.

He needed to get out of here. The heat was seriously getting to him, and just being in the presence of Agon was hell on his psyche. The negotiations had not broken down in his favor, but he was alive; he would take what small victories he could.

Actually... He paused at the door, his fingers balling into a fist as he glared back at Agon. He was probably making a huge mistake, but this had gone on long enough.

"When this job is over, I want to see the boss."

The temperature in the room dropped. A heavy air settled, nearly smothering him. He couldn't see it, but he just knew that the other man's eyes were firmly locked onto him. Staring deep into his soul.

"What did you just say…?"

The pressure was immense. He knew for a fact that Agon was the only one who could directly contact the boss. One of the first rules that was laid out was that _no one_ saw the boss, and no one spoke to them. "I've been with you for a year now. I've been doing work, and I've been busting my ass. I want to know just who the hell I'm working for. I deserve at least that much."

He held his gaze for a long moment. When he felt his point was made, he turned and pushed through the door. The unbearable heat of the room left him cold and clammy, his fingers visibly shaking.

God… He needed a smoke.

* * *

"Blackmore-san… Please take it from here."

Ritchie sighed and gave Midoriya a searching look, wanting to make sure this was really what he wanted to do. Izuku nodded back resolutely, completely sure in his choice. There was no doubt in his eyes, and the similar smiles spanned across the class showed that the sentiment was shared.

He cleared his throat, turning to address the class as they all looked to him. "Alright then. As you all have heard, Midoriya will be stepping down from his position and Iida will take his place as class president. Please welcome him."

Iida's shocked face hasn't let up in the slightest as Ritchie and the rest of the class clapped for him. He stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room, deeply moved by the decision.

It was a sudden change, but Ritchie found it wasn't unwarranted. When the cafeteria descended into madness, Ritchie truly did worry that someone was going to get seriously hurt in the pandemonium. Where all other students panicked, Iida had acted quickly and intelligently; grabbing all attention to himself with an audacious move and calling for all the students to calm down.

As it turned out, the stage three security breach had been nothing more than the unlawful entry of quite a large amount of reporters onto the school premises. Nothing outwardly dangerous at all; but all the mayhem that those sirens caused was an entirely different matter. Of all the people in that cafeteria, Iida was the only one to realize that and act accordingly.

With Midoriya's statement to the class after lunch, it was pretty much unanimously decided to elect Iida to take over as Class President. Midoriya could have handled the position, but he claimed that Iida was far more deserving and more capable in it then he would have been. The reason he himself was even up here was because Tooru pretty much dragged him up to 'officially' swear in Iida.

Iida trembled with untapped vigor for only a moment longer before smiling confidently and stepping forward, "If this is the will of the class then I cannot refuse!"

"Do your best Iida!"

"We're counting on you!"

"I'm not giving up my Vice-President position though…"

Despite how hectic and terrifying the whole situation had been, it seemed that everything had worked out in the end. But one student couldn't quite share the excited atmosphere.

Ritchie stepped back and away, his mouth a thin line as he watched Iida. He truly was happy for him, he deserved the chance he had been given and more. His actions during that crisis were proof of that. But that didn't mean it was all positive.

Iida's actions… They only worsened his mounting internal debate. While Iida threw caution to the wind to calm the students down, Ritchie Blackmore had been swept away in the crowd. He had been swallowed up in the tide of students, unable to do anything but try and keep himself from getting crushed.

It was only made all the worse when his quirk was taken into consideration. With Blackfoot he likely could have figured out a way to gather everyone's attention and calm them down someway, or to do something to at least lessen the danger of the situation, or just _help _someone. But whether it was because he was too stupid to figure it out, or too cowardly to actually do it, he simply let himself get swept away.

While the engine-legged Sumei graduate acted above and beyond to diffuse the situation, he did absolutely nothing. Iidas actions didn't inspire him, it only highlighted his weakness.

This could not go on. If he allowed things to remain this way then he may as well just quit now. If he really wanted to change then he couldn't just coast any longer. He couldn't make any more excuses.

It was time to step out of his comfort zone.

Ritchie broke away from the wall. Nodding politely to Ojiro as he crossed over to the other side of the room. He kept the brimming resolve beneath the surface, only giving away his inner thoughts through the resolute frown on his face.

"Aoyama-san." He said as he approached the flashy student, having to duck under one of Mezo Shoji's arms just to reach him. Aoyama perked up, smiling brightly from his spot half-leaning against his desk when he noticed Ritchie.

"Blackmore-chan! It's been quite the day, hasn't it?" Aoyama said, gesturing over to the couple cliques of students that had formed in the class, "I never could have imagined we would have two presidents in the same day…"

Ritchie nodded, "Iida's a little stiff, but give him some time and I think he'll impress us."

"I think so too." Aoyama smiled, nudging a couple strands out of his face only to pause when he noticed his friend still staring at him. "Is there something wrong?"

He was probably going to regret this. But he was out of options, and he wouldn't let himself procrastinate this. One way or another, change was going to happen. Whether it was a natural growth, or if he had to strong-arm his old self into submission.

"I need your help."

* * *

**A/N: **

**This took FOREVER. Mostly because I just couldn't get some of the scenes to feel right, but also because I've gotten sidetracked by school and playing Sekiro. Either way, I promised to put a little more effort in this story, so Im hitting you with another chapter. A little late, but here nonetheless.**

**Feedback is always welcome, especially now, since I could use all the creative advice I can get to keep the flow of the story good. **

**On another point, things are starting to come to a head. Antagonists(?) are being established slowly but surely, bonds are being ironed out, and the characters are being improved past their canon nature. It may not be noticeable yet, but Ritchie's presence will have an impact on most of his classmates. **

**A necessary change if they're going to weather the coming storm.**

**Thats that. Love it, hate it, its out now. I'll see you all next time. **


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